OUR    HAWAII 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON  •    CHICAGO  •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY  •   CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


OUR    HAWAII 


BY 

CHARMIAN  KITTREDGE  LONDON 

(MRS.  JACK  LONDON) 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  LOG  OF  THE  SHARK  " 


gorfc 

THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1917 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1917, 
BY  CHARMIAN  K.   LONDON. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  December,  1917. 


NorJuooli  $resg 

J.  S.  Gushing  Co.  —Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


HAWAII 


371614 


"A  sense  of  marvel  drifts  to  me  — 
Of  morning  on  a  purple  sea, 
And  fragrant  islands  far  away." 

—  GEORGE  STERLING. 


FOREWORD 

JACK  LONDON  AND  HAWAII!  From  the  years  of  his 
youth  the  two  names  have  been  entwined  in  the  minds  of 
those  who  knew  him  best  —  since  that  day  when,  bound 
for  the  Japan  sealing  grounds  and  Bering  Sea  on  the  Sophie 
Sutherland  (his  model  for  the  schooner  Ghost  of  "The  Sea 
Wolf"),  he  first  glimpsed  to  northward  the  smoke  and  fire 
of  Kilauea.  Through  successive  visits,  including  eighteen 
months  spent  in  the  Islands  during  the  last  two  years  of 
his  life,  through  early  misunderstanding  and  final  loving 
comprehension  of  him,  Jack  London  and  Hawaii  have 
drawn  together,  with  increasing  devotion  in  his  heart 
for  "Aloha-land"  —  "Love-land"  in  his  fashion  of 
speech  —  until  at  the  end  he  could  answer  to  the  long- 
desired  appellation,  kamaaina,  one-who-belongs,  and  more. 

"They  don't  know  what  they've  got!"  he  said  of  the 
American  public,  when,  a  decade  ago,  headed  for  the  South 
Seas  in  his  own  small-boat  voyage  around  the  world,  he 
sailed  far  out  of  his  course  that  Hawaii  might  be  the  first 
port  of  call,  and  threw  himself  into  learning  the  manifold 
beauty  and  wonder  of  this  territory  of  Uncle  Sam.  And 
"They  don't  know  what  they've  got,"  he  repeated  to  each 
new  unscrolling  of  its  wonder  and  beauty  during  five 
months  of  enjoyment  and  study  of  land  and  people.  Again 
in  Hawaii  after  the  breaking  out  of  the  Great  War,  he 
amended:  "Because  they  have  no  other  place  to  go,  they 
are  just  beginning  to  realize  what  they've  got." 

And,  really,  the  knowledge  of  the  citizen  of  the  States  is 
woefully  scant  concerning  this  possession  but  a  few  days 
distant  by  steamer,  and  woefully  he  distorts  its  very  name 


x  FOREWORD 

in  conversation  and  song  into  something  like  Haw-way'ah. 
To  the  adept  in  the  lovely  language  there  are  fine  nuances 
in  the  vowelly  word ;  but  simple  Hah-wy'ee  serves  well. 

What  does  the  average  middle-aged  American  know  of 
the  amazing  history  of  this  amazing  " native"  people  now 
voting  as  American  citizens?  The  name  Hawaii  calls  to 
memory  vague  dots  on  a  soiled  map  of  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
bearing  a  vaguely  gastronomic  caption  that  in  no  wise 
reminds  him  of  the  Earl  of  Sandwich,  Lord  of  the  British 
Admiralty,  and  patron  of  the  intrepid  discoverer,  Captain 
Cook,  whose  valiant  bones  even  now  rest  on  the  Kona 
Coast.  Savage,  remote,  alluring,  adventurous,  are  the 
impressions ;  but  few  have  grasped  the  fact  that  that  pure 
Polynesian,  Kamehameha  the  Great,  deserves  to  rank  as 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  figures  in  history  for  his  revo- 
lutionary genius,  unaided  by  outland  ideas.  Dying  in 
1819,  little  more  than  a  year  before  the  first  missionaries 
sailed  from  Boston,  he  had  fought  his  way  to  the  consoli- 
dation under  one  government  of  the  group  of  eight  islands, 
ended  feudal  monarchy,  abolished  idolatry,  and  all  un- 
knowing made  the  land  ripe  for  Christian  civilization. 

Of  those  whom  I  have  questioned,  only  one  even  heard 
that,  before  this  generation,  indeed  previous  to  the  dis- 
covery of  gold  in  California  and  the  starting  of  our  forbears 
over  the  Plains  by  oxteam  or  across  the  Isthmus  of  Panama, 
early  settlers  in  California  were  sending  their  children  to 
be  educated  in  the  excellent  missionary  schools  of  these 
isles  of  inconsequential  name,  and  importing  their  wheat 
from  the  same  " savage"  port. 

In  this  journal  covering  a  few  months  spent  a  decade 
ago  in  Hawaii,  concluding  with  a  resume  of  experiences 
there  in  1915-1916,  I  have  tried  to  limn  a  picture  of  the 
charm  of  the  Hawaiian  Islander  as  he  was,  and  of  his 
becoming,  together  with  the  enchantment  of  his  lofty 
isles  and  their  abundant  hospitality. 

During  the  original  writing,  many  elisions  were  advised 


FOREWORD  xi 

by  Jack  London,  as  being  too  personal  of  himself  for  me, 
being  me,  to  publish.  However,  in  the  circumstances  of 
his  untimely  passing,  and  in  view  of  a  desire  made  evident 
to  me,  in  countless  letters  as  well  as  in  the  press,  for  bio- 
graphical work,  I  have  been  led  to  reinstate  and  elaborate 
much  of  the  mass  of  data.  Even  in  the  face  of  his  objec- 
tions at  the  time,  I  had  stoutly  disagreed,  maintaining 
that  the  lovers  of  his  soul  and  his  work  would  value  reve- 
lation of  his  personality  and  manner  of  living  life. 

And  so,  missing  incalculably  the  grace  of  his  final  censor- 
ship, I  am  chancing  the  test.  If  the  personal  pronoun  / 
too  lavishly  peppers  the  story,  take  the  role  of  "  the  gentle 
reader"  toward  me,  I  pray,  and  consider  the  inevitable 
handicap  of  one  who  writes  intimately  of  a  dear  and  gracious 
subject. 

CHARMIAN  KITTREDGE  LONDON. 

GLEN  ELLEN,  CALIFORNIA, 

IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MOON, 

September  i,  1917. 


OUR    HAWAII 


OUR   HAWAII 


PEARL  HARBOR,  OAHU, 
TERRITORY  OF  HAWAII, 
Tuesday,  May  21,  1907. 

COME  tread  with  me  a  little  space  of  Paradise.  Many 
pleasant  acres  have  I  trod  hitherto,  but  never  an  acre  like 
this.  It  is  so  beautiful  and  restful  and  green.  Green 
upon  green.  With  blue-depthed  shadows  imposed  from 
green-depthed  foliage  of  great  trees  upon  thick  deep  lawn 
that  cushions  underfoot.  Bare  foot.  For  one  somehow 
dissociates  the  idea  of  footwear  with  an  acre  of  Elysium. 
It  is  one  of  the  paradisal  blessings  of  this  new  Sweet  Home 
of  ours  that  we  may  blissfully  pace  it  unshod,  and  for  the 
most  part  unobserved. 

The  street  is  a  mere  white,  meandering,  coral-powdered 
by-way ;  no  thing  less  inquisitive  than  the  birds  abides  in 
the  adjoining  garden,  where  a  rustic  dwelling  shows  but 
vaguely  amidst  a  riot  of  foliage;  and  on  our  southern 
boundary  is  a  tropic  tangle  of  uninhabited  wild  wood,  front- 
ing upon  a  native  fishpond  —  an  elongated  bit  of  bay  in- 
closed by  a  low  wall  of  masonry  of  such  antiquity  that  no 
tradition  of  Hawaii  can  place  its  origin. 

Bayward  the  outlook  is  a  rosy  coral  reef,  swept  by  tepid 
pea-green  tides;  and  to  its  outer  rim  extends  a  slender 
wooden  jetty,  at  the  end  of  which  our  ship's  boat  can  lie 
even  at  low  tide. 

An  eighth  of  a  mile  beyond  in  the  rippling  chrysoprase 
flood  of  Pearl  Harbor,  "Dream  Harbor7'  Jack  loves  to  call 


2  OtfR  HAWAII 

it,  swings  our  Boat  of  Dreams,  our  little  Snark,  anchored 
in  the  first  port  of  call  on  her  mission  of  pure  golden  adven- 
ture —  a  gallant  foolishness,  perhaps,  but  if  we  be  fools, 
let  us  be  gallant  ones.  Whenever  my  happy  eyes  come  to 
rest  on  her  shining  shape,  I  feel  them  growing  big  with 
visions  of  the  coming  years  on  her  deck ;  and  then,  remem- 
bering vivid  incidents  of  the  voyage,  I  drift  back  to  the 
lovely  earth  with  a  filling  sense  of  several  laps  of  adventure 
already  run.  Not  the  least  of  these  is  mere  living  in  a 
shady  nook  of  Paradise  where  one's  eyes  must  quest  twice 
in  the  green  gloom  among  enormous  trees  to  discover,  near 
the  waterside,  the  habitation  —  a  very  small,  very  rustic, 
very  simple  brown  bungalow  of  three  rooms  —  only  one, 
our  big  breezy  bedroom,  quite  deserving  of  the  name  of 
room.  The  others  are:  one,  a  long  and  narrow  seaward 
strip  like  an  inclosed  veranda ;  the  other,  a  cozy  cubby  of  a 
kitchen.  A  tiny  pantry,  an  ample  bathroom,  and  windows, 
windows  everywhere,  make  perfect  the  indoor  aspect  of  this 
arcadian  acre. 

Already,  in  swimming  suits,  we  have  ventured  the  reef 
at  high  tide,  with  unbounded  delight  in  the  sun-washed 
liquid  silk.  Our  goal  for  to-morrow  is  the  yacht,  as  there 
is  scant  danger  from  man-eating  sharks  in  this  sheltered 
harbor. 

Beyond  the  Snark,  across  this  arm  of  the  sea,  over  low 
green  volcanic  hills  lying  southeast  between  Pearl  Lochs 
and  Honolulu,  one  is  just  able  to  glimpse  the  rosy  bulk  of 
Diamond  Head,  trembling  in  the  fervent  sunlight.  To  the 
north,  over  vast  rice  fields  and  upland  plantations,  shrug 
the  rugged,  riven  Kolau  Loa  Mountains,  their  heads  lost 
in  heavy  cloud  masses  that  seem  everlastingly  to  roll  and 
shift  above  these  tropic  ranges. 

Pearl  Harbor  embraces  some  twelve  square  miles,  divided 
naturally  into  three  lochs,  or  arms  of  the  sea,  by  two  penin- 
sulas, on  the  eastern  of  which  lies  the  village  dignified  by 
the  suggestive  name  of  Pearl  City.  Trust  me  for  having 


OUR  HAWAII  3 

already  gleaned  the  information  that  the  locality  has  been 
these  many  years  filched  of  its  jewels. 

On  the  southeastern  extremity  of  our  particular  "neck  of 
the  woods,"  stray  a  few  suburban  homes  of  Honolulans, 
of  which  ours  is  one.  Tochigi,  Nipponese  and  poet-browed 
cabin  boy  of  the  Snark,  is  to  live  ashore  with  us  and  resume 
his  erstwhile  household  service,  while  the  rest  of  the 
yacht's  complement — Roscoe,  sailing-master,  Bert,  engi- 
neer of  our  ruined  machinery,  and  Martin,  cook  because 
there  was  no  other  berth  vacant  —  will  retain  their  accom- 
modations aboard.  In  these  protected  waters,  the  boat 
lies  at  least  as  steady  as  a  house  on  wheels,  as  she  swings 
to  ebb  and  flow. 

Strangely  content  are  we  in  the  unwonted  tranquillity  of 
motion  and  sound,  lacking  wish  to  venture  afield,  even 
to  Honolulu,  about  twelve  miles  distant  by  the  railroad. 
Enough  just  to  rest  and  rest,  and  gaze  around  upon  the 
beautiful,  long-desired  world  of  island.  Scarcely  can  we 
glance  athwart  the  apple-green  water  but  there  curves  a 
span  of  rainbow  between  our  eyes  and  the  far  hills,  and  like 
as  not  a  double-span,  with  promise  of  a  triple-bow ;  while 
frequent  warm  showers  delicately  veil  the  land's  vivid 
emerald  with  all  melting  tints  of  opal. 

Very  florid,  all  this,  you  will  smile  —  a  bit  overdone, 
perhaps?  Gird  at  my  word-storms  if  you  will.  Then 
consider  .  .  .  and  take  ship  for  this  " fleet  of  islands"  in 
the  western  ocean.  It  isn't  real ;  it  can't  be  —  too  sweet 
it  is,  day  and  night,  the  round  twenty-four  hours.  Here 
but  the  one  night  and  day,  already  we  grope  for  new  forms 
of  expression,  as  will  you  an  you  follow  the  sinking  sun. 

The  heat  is  not  oppressive,  even  though  the  season  is 
close  to  summer.  But  one  must  realize  that  Hawaii  is  only 
subtropical.  To  be  precise,  the  group  of  eight  inhabited 
islands  occupies  a  central  position  in  the  North  Pacific, 
and  lies  just  within  the  northern  tropic.  For  the  benefit 
of  any  sailor  who  may  run  and  read,  Jack  says  I  might  as 


4  OUR  HAWAII 

well  be  still  more  explicit,  and  record  that  the  Snark,  an- 
chored about  2000  sea  miles  southwest  of  her  native  shore, 
lies  between  18°  54'  and  22°  15'  north  latitude,  and  be- 
tween 154°  50'  and  160°  30'  of  longitude  west  of  Greenwich. 
Figures  never  did  stick  with  me  —  there  seems  to  be  a 
positive  lack  in  my  brain  that  is  the  despair  of  my  thor- 
oughly mathematical  and  practical  commander,  who  can 
reduce  anything  in  the  world  to  his  eternal  "arithmetic." 
(Almost  anything,  I  hear  him  disavow,  for  none  so  humble 
as  he  to  offer  that  there  are  holy  things  of  the  human  heart 
and  mind  far  from  amenable  to  rule  of  thumb.)  What 
does  penetrate  my  senses  in  this  particular  case  is  the 
immutable  truth  that  this  ocean  paradise  is  blessed  with 
a  lower  temperature  than  any  other  country  in  the  same 
latitude.  The  reasons  are  simple  enough  —  the  prevail- 
ing "orderly  trades"  that  blow  over  a  large  extent  of  the 
ocean,  and  the  ocean  itself  that  is  cooled  by  the  return 
current  from  the  region  of  Bering  Straits.  Pleasantly 
warm  though  we  found  the  waters  of  Pearl  Harbor  this 
bright  morning,  yet  are  they  less  warm  by  ten  degrees  than 
the  waters  of  other  regions  in  similar  latitudes. 

And  now,  to  go  back  a  little  and  recount  how  we  came 
to  rest  in  this  fair  haven  —  Fair  Haven,  in  passing,  was 
the  name  bestowed  upon  Honolulu  Harbor  by  one  of  her 
discoverers,  Captain  Brown,  when,  in  1794,  in  his  schooner 
Jackal,  accompanied  by  Captain  Gordon  in  the  sloop  Prince 
Lee  Boo,  he  entered  the  bay,  and  mixed  in  local  affairs 
by  selling  arms  and  ammunition  to  King  Kalanikupule  of 
Oahu,  who  was  resisting  an  invasion  from  the  sovereign 
of  the  island  of  Maui,  Kaeo.  Right  near  us  here,  at 
Kalauao  on  the  way  to  Honolulu,  a  red  battle  was  waged, 
in  which  Kalanikupule,  assisted  by  Captain  Brown  and 
his  men,  overthrew  the  powerful  enemy.  Poor  Captain 
Brown  was  born  unlucky,  it  would  seem.  Firing  a  salute 
the  next  day  from  the  Jackal,  in  honor  of  the  victory,  a 
wad  from  his  guns  went  wild  and  killed  Captain  Kendrick, 


OUR  HAWAII  5 

who  was  quietly  dining  aboard  his  own  vessel,  the  Lady 
Washington.  The  blameless  skipper's  funeral,  being  of  a 
different  sort  from  the  native  ceremony,  was  looked  upon 
by  the  Hawaiians  as  an  act  of  sorcery  to  induce  the 
death  of  Captain  Brown.  Kalanikupule  paid  the  latter 
four  hundred  hogs  for  his  valorous  part  in  the  struggle 
with  the  vanquished  Kaeo,  and  Brown,  after  the  sailing 
of  the  Lady  Washington  for  China,  put  his  men  to  salting 
down  the  valuable  pork  at  Kaihikapu,  an  ancient  salt 
pond  between  Pearl  Harbor  and  Honolulu. 

One  day  while  the  Jackal's  mate,  Mr.  Lamport,  and  the 
sailors  were  gathering  salt,  Kamohomoho,  uncle  of  Oahu's 
king,  boarded  the  Prince  Lee  Boo  and  the  Jackal,  and  more 
than  made  good  the  "act  of  sorcery"  by  dispatching  poor 
Brown  as  well  as  Gordon,  imprisoning  those  of  the  crews 
not  employed  ashore.  Lamport  and  his  men  were  captured, 
but  their  lives  spared.  The  gratitude  of  the  royal  family 
for  favors  rendered  had  been  outbalanced  by  ambition  for 
a  modern  navy  with  which  to  attack  Kamehameha  the 
Great  on  the  "Big  Island,"  Hawaii.  On  the  voyage,  how- 
ever, the  white  seamen  regained  possession  of  the  vessels, 
sent  the  natives  ashore  in  their  own  canoes  which  were 
being  towed,  and  lost  no  time  following  the  Lady  Wash- 
ington to  the  Orient. 

But  I  become  lost  in  the  fascinating  history  of  the  men 
who  blazed  our  trail  to  these  romantic  isles,  and  forget  that 
this  is  the  chronicle  of  a  more  modern  adventure. 

On  the  mainland,  before  sailing  out  through  the  Golden 
Gate,  we  made  the  fortunate  acquaintance  of  one,  Mr. 
Thomas  W.  Hobron,  artist,  merchant,  good  fellow,  and 
citizen  of  Honolulu,  who  spoke  in  this  wise:  "I  wonder 
if  you  two  would  care  to  put  up  in  my  little  shack  on  the 
peninsula.  It  isn't  much  to  look  at,  and  there's  only 
room  enough  for  the  two  of  you;  but  it's  brimful  of 
Aloha,  if  you  care  to  use  it." 

So  here  are  we,  blessing  good  Tom  Hobron,  as  we  shall 


6  OUR   HAWAII 

bless  him  all  our  years,  for  the  gift  of  so  idyllic  a  resting 
spot  after  the  tumult  of  our  first  traverse  on  the  bit  of  boat 
yonder. 

And  yet,  casting  back  over  those  twenty-six  days  of 
ceaseless  tossing,  we  are  aware  only  of  pleasure  in  the 
memory  of  every  least  happening,  disagreeable  and  agree- 
able alike.  In  fact  the  last  week  aboard  was  so  cozy  and 
homelike  that  more  than  often  we  caught  ourselves  re- 
gretting the  imminent  termination  of  the  cruise.  Even 
at  this  moment  of  writing,  despite  blissful  surroundings, 
did  I  not  know  that  the  Snark's  dear  adventure  were  but 
just  begun,  I  should  be  robbed  indeed,  so  in  love  am  I  with 
sea  and  Snark : 

"  For  the  wind  and  waterways  have  stamped  me  with  their  seal." 

We.  picked  up  a  good  slant  of  wind  to  make  Honolulu 
yesterday  morning  —  an  immeasurable  relief  after  the 
worrisome  calm  of  the  night  before,  during  which  we  had 
taken  our  turns  at  the  idle  wheel  and  scanned  the  contrary 
compass  with  all  emotions  of  anxiety,  while  the  helpless 
yacht  swung  on  every  arc  of  the  circle,  with  no  slightest  fan 
of  air  to  fill  her  limp  sails  that  flapped  ponderously  in  the 
glassy  offshore  heave.  Never  shall  I  forget  my  own  tense 
double- watch  of  four  hours,  straining  eye  and  ear  toward 
the  all-too-nigh  coral  reefs  off  Koko  Head,  with  Mokopuu 
Point  light  blinking  to  the  northeast.  But  when  a  dart 
of  sun  through  a  decklight  woke  me  from  brief  sleep,  we 
were  spanking  along  smartly  in  a  cobalt  sea  threshed  white 
on  every  rushing  wave,  with  the  green  and  gold  island  of 
Oahu  shifting  its  scenery  like  a  sliding  screen  as  we  swept 
past  lovely  rose-tawny  Diamond  Head  and  palm-dotted 
Waikiki  toward  Honolulu  Harbor.  After  an  oddly  fishless 
voyage  of  four  weeks,  we  were  joyously  excited  over  a 
school  of  big  porpoises,  "puffing-pigs,"  intent  as  any  flock 
of  barnyard  fowl  to  cross  our  fleeing  forefoot.  Undignified 
haste  was  their  only  resemblance  to  domestic  poultry,  for 


OUR  HAWAII  7 

in  general  movement  they  were  more  like  sportive  colts 
hurdling  in  pasture  with  snort  and  puff  —  sleek  sides 
glistening  blue  black  in  the  brilliant  sunlight. 

To  our  land-eager  eyes,  the  beautiful  old  city  was  the  sur- 
passing picture  of  her  pictures,  when,  still  outside,  we  came 
abreast  of  her  wharves  —  the  water  front  with  ships  and 
steamers  moored  beside  the  long  sheds,  and,  behind,  the 
Pompeian-red  Punch  Bowl,  so  often  described  by  early 
voyagers;  the  suburban  heights  of  Tantalus;  the  purple- 
deep  rifts  of  valleys  and  gorges ;  and  the  green-and- violet 
needled  peaks  upthrusting  through  dense  dark  cloud  rack. 

Barely  had  we  finished  Martin's  eggless  breakfast,  when 
a  government  launch  frothed  alongside,  and  the  engineer's 
cheery  "Want  a  line,  Jack  —  eh?"  sounded  classic  as- 
surance of  Hawaii's  far-famed  grace  of  hospitality.  Despite 
my  sanguine  temperament,  I  had  been  conscious  of  a 
premonition  that  something  unfortunate  would  happen 
upon  our  arrival,  probably  due  to  the  impression  left  by 
the  hasty  ship  chandler  of  San  Francisco,  who  unjustly 
libeled  the  Snark  in  Oakland  and  delayed  our  sailing ;  so 
this  gracious  "Want  a  line,  Jack?"  was  music  to  my  ears. 
You  see,  Jack  London  is  not  infrequently  arrested,  or 
nearly  arrested,  for  one  reason  or  another,  whenever  he 
sets  his  merry  foot  upon  foreign  soil  (I  have  disquieting 
memories  of  Cuba,  Japan,  and  Korea) ;  and  Hawaii  seems 
like  foreign  soil,  albeit  annexed  by  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 

The  morning  paper,  the  Pacific  Commercial  Advertiser, 
preceded  Immigration  Inspector  Brown  and  Customs 
Inspector  Farmer  over  the  rail,  and  they  laughingly  pointed 
to  a  conspicuously  leaded  item  that  the  Snark  was  sup- 
posed to  be  lost  with  all  on  board  —  bright  tidings  already 
cabled  to  California  and  read  by  our  horrified  families  and 
friends !  We  cannot  help  wishing  we  were  early  enough 
here  to  be  handed  the  very  first  English  newspaper  pub- 
lished at  Honolulu,  in  1836  —  the  Sandwich  Islands  Gazette. 
And  two  years  before  that,  the  Hawaiian  sheets,  Kumu 


8  OUR  HAWAII 

Hawaii  and  Lama  Hawaii,  were  the  first  newspapers  is- 
sued in  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

Speed  is  not  the  object  of  our  junketing  in  the  Seven 
Seas ;  but  if  we  of  the  Snark  had  known  any  hurt  vanity 
about  the  length  of  our  passage,  it  would  have  been  amply 
offset  by  a  report  the  inspectors  made  of  the  big  bark 
Edward  May,  arriving  six  days  before,  which  beat  our 
tardy  record  but  forty-eight  hours,  after  an  equally  unevent- 
ful voyage. 

Meanwhile  the  pilot  had  come  aboard,  a  line  was  passed 
forward  to  the  launch,  and  we  now  ripped  and  zipped  over 
a  billowy  swell  to  meet  the  port  physician,  Dr.  Sinclair, 
whose  white  launch  could  be  seen  putting  out  from  a  wharf. 
That  dignitary,  once  on  deck,  scanned  our  clean  bill  of 
health,  asked  a  few  routine  questions  —  one  of  which  was 
whether  we  carried  any  rats  or  snakes;  and  all  three 
officials  pronounced  us  free  to  enter  the  port  of  Honolulu. 
Whereupon  Jack  stated  that  we  were  bound  for  Pearl 
Lochs,  expecting  there  to  find  Mr.  Tom  Hobron,  and  was 
in  return  informed  by  the  pilot  that  Mr.  Hobron  had  been 
called  to  San  Francisco  for  an  indefinite  period,  but  that 
he  knew  the  cottage  was  at  our  disposal  in  accordance  with 
the  understanding.  Furthermore,  we  were  told  that  the 
wharves  of  Honolulu  were  lined  with  her  citizens,  waiting 
to  garland  us  in  welcome;  but  too  impelling  behind  our 
eyes  was  the  fancied  picture  of  the  promised  retreat  by 
the  still  waters  of  Pearl  Lochs,  so  we  thanked  our  kind  vis- 
itors, secured  a  launch,  and  towed  resolutely  past  the 
hospitable  city. 

"It  does  seem  a  darned  shame, "  Jack  mused  regret- 
fully. "But  what  can  we  do  with  all  our  plans  made  for 
Pearl  Harbor?"  "And  anyway,"  he  added,  "I  don't 
want  the  general  public  to  see  boat  of  mine  sail  in  looking 
as  if  she's  been  half-built  and  then  half-wrecked,  the  way 
this  one  does.  .  .  .  I've  got  some  pride." 

Then  all  attention  was  claimed  by  the  beauty  of  our 


OUR  HAWAII  g 

westward  way  to  the  harbor  entrance,  as  we  closely  skirted 
a  broad  shoreward  reef  where  greenest  breakers  combed 
and  burst  into  fountains  of  tourmaline  and  turquoise,  shot 
through  with  javelins  of  sun  gold,  and  the  air  was  rilled  with 
rainbow  mist.  Our  boat  slipped  along  in  a  world  com- 
pounded of  the  very  ravishment  of  melting  colors  —  land 
and  sea,  it  was  all  of  a  piece ;  while  off  to  the  southeastern 
horizon  ocean  and  sky  merged  in  palest  silvery  azure,  softly 
gloomed  by  shadowy  shapes  of  other  Promised  Islands. 

Turning  almost  due  north  into  the  narrow  reef  entrance 
to  the  Lochs,  we  could  easily  have  sailed  unassisted,  even 
with  the  light  breeze  then  remaining,  so  well  marked  is  the 
channel  which  has  been  dredged,  full  thirty  feet  deep,  to 
admit  passage  of  the  largest  vessels  into  this  land-locked 
harbor,  invaluable  acquisition  to  the  American  govern- 
ment—  the  finest  naval  station  in  the  Pacific,  if  not  in 
the  world.  Its  low  banks  show  both  lava  and  coral 
formation,  and  vast  cane  plantations  and  gently  terraced 
rice  fields  slope  their  green  leagues  back  to  the  foothills 
of  the  Waianae  Mountains.  Scattered  over  the  rice  areas 
are  picturesquely  tattered  Mongolians,  who  utter  long 
resonant  calls  to  frighten  the  marauding  ricebirds,  which, 
swarming  up  in  black,  disturbed  clouds,  are  brought  down 
with  shotguns. 

We  two,  with  oneness  in  love  of  our  watery  roaming, 
were  happy  and  vociferous  as  a  pair  of  children,  entering 
this  our  first  port.  Had  we  given  it  a  thought,  we  could 
have  wished  for  a  less  civilized  landfall,  with  conscious 
missing  of  a  native  face  or  two.  But  I  am  sure  this  never 
entered  our  busy  heads  —  not  mine,  at  any  rate ;  and  my 
memory  of  Jack's  alert  and  beaming  face  precludes  doubt 
of  his  contentment  with  things  as  they  were. 

Presently,  as  we  wound  along  between  the  western 
peninsula  and  a  little  green  islet,  he  called  attention  to 
the  snowy  bore  of  a  tiny  craft  racing  toward  us.  In  short 
order  a  smart  white  launch  was  rounding  up  with  dash 


io  OUR  HAWAII 

and  style  befitting  the  commodore  of  the  famed  Hawaiian 
Yacht  Club,  Mr.  Clarence  Macfarlane,  who,  with  Mr. 
Albert  Waterhouse,  a  neighbor  on  this  little  eastern 
peninsula  of  ours,  had  learned  by  telephone  from  Honolulu 
of  our  arrival,  and  hurried  out  to  make  us  welcome.  Both 
of  these  "dandy  fellows,"  as  Jack  promptly  rated  them, 
sent  a  warm  glow  through  us  by  the  unassuming  good  will 
of  their  greeting  eyes  and  hand-grasp,  while  the  first 
word  on  their  lips  was  the  beautiful  Hawaiian  "Aloha!" 
(ah-lo-hah)  that  is  epitome  of  hearty  welcome,  broad 
hospitality,  and  unquestioning  friendship.  No  noise  nor 
flurry  was  theirs,  as  they  set  foot  on  the  deck  of  the  much- 
bruited  Snark;  only  the  kindest,  quietest,  make-yourself- 
at-home  manner,  as  if  we  had  all  been  acquainted  for  years, 
or  else  that  it  was  the  most  usual  thing  in  the  world  to 
receive  a  wild  man  and  woman  who  had  essayed  to  cir- 
cumnavigate the  globe  in  an  absurd  small  shallop  of  out- 
landish rig.  But  those  keen  sailor  eyes  missed  jot  nor 
tittle  of  the  vessel's  lines  and  visible  equipment,  for  to  the 
mind  of  the  world  at  large  this  boat,  "  the  strongest  of  her 
size  ever  built,"  to  quote  her  owner,  with  convenient  English 
dogger  bank  sail  plan,  is  a  somewhat  questionable  experi- 
ment. I  intercepted  Albert  Waterhouse's  roving  glance 
on  its  return  from  examining  the  stepping  of  the  stout 
mizzenmast,  which  stepping  constitutes  the  main  difference 
between  our  imported  ketch-rig  and  the  more  familiar 
yawl ;  and  the  comprehending  laugh  in  my  own  eyes  called 
out  a  roguish,  half-embarrassed  twinkle  in  his.  But  "  Zing ! 
She's  some  boat!"  he  appreciated,  taking  in  the  sturdy 
sticks  and  teak  deck  fittings,  and  the  general  compactness 
of  our  forty-five  by  fifteen  foot  ocean  dwelling. 

And  then  he  related  how  he  had  been  commissioned  by 
Tom  Hobron  to  turn  over  the  bungalow  and  do  what  he 
could  to  make  us  at  home.  His  first  neighborly  service 
was  to  see  the  Snark  properly  anchored  off  the  Hobron 
jetty,  the  while  I  strained  my  eyes  across  the  eighth  mile 


OUR  HAWAII  n 

of  gray  green  water  to  glimpse  the  "not-much-to-look-at 
' shack'"  amongst  the  plumy  depths  of  foliage. 

Leaving  the  crew  aboard  to  make  everything  snug,  Jack 
and  I  were  carried  by  launch  farther  up  the  Loch  to  a  long 
wooden  foot  pier  that  leads  over  the  shallow  shore  reef  to 
a  spacious  suburban  place  where  live  Albert  Waterhouse 
and  his  little  family. 

And  here  occurreth  a  teapotful  of  mischance.  Let  none 
question  that  negotiating  several  hundred  feet  of  narrow, 
stationary,  unrailed  bridge  above  shifting  water,  by  legs 
that  for  over  three  weeks  have  known  only  a  pitching  sur- 
face of  forty -five  by  fifteen,  is  little  short  of  tragedy  for  one 
who  would  make  seeming  entry  into  a  hospitable  strange 
land.  I  know  how  Jack  looked ;  I  can  only  tell  how  I  felt. 
And  he  was  distinctly  unkind.  He  made  no  secret  of  his 
amusement  at  my  astonishing  gyrations,  although  to  my 
jaundiced  eye  his  own  progress  was  open  to  criticism. 

It  still  puzzles  —  how  we  ever  traversed  the  distance 
without  a  ducking.  Repeatedly  I  had  to  apologize  to  Mr, 
Waterhouse  or  Commodore  Macfarlane  for  the  frantic 
dabs  made  at  them  to  prevent  myself  from  going  headlong 
into  the  water.  It  was  outrageous,  the  way  that  inter- 
minable board  walk  would  rise  straight  up  until  I  felt 
obliged  to  lean  acutely  forward  to  the  ascent,  in  terror  of 
bumping  a  sunburnt  nose  —  only  to  find  that  it  had  ab- 
ruptly slanted  downward,  whereupon  I  must  angle  as 
giddily  backward  to  preserve  a  becoming  balance.  From 
the  rear,  Jack,  in  difficulties  of  his  own,  tittered  something 
about  his  wife's  "sad  walk,"  and  I  remember  retorting 
with  asperity  that  it  was  a  pity  he  had  never  noticed  it 
before.  Then  we  all  fell  to  laughing  and,  very  much  better 
acquainted  for  the  fun,  somehow  gained  the  coral-graveled 
pathway  that  led  into  a  garden  of  green  lawns,  hedged  by 
scarlet-blooming  shrubbery,  and  shaded  by  great  gnarled 
trees  that  would  have  delighted  Dore's  tortured  imagination. 

In  response  to  her  husband's  shout  of  "Here  they  are, 


12  OUR  HAWAII 

Gretchen!  I've  got  'm!  Zing!"  Mrs.  Waterhouse,  a 
cool  and  unruffled  vision  of  woman,  moved  toward  us  on 
bare  sandaled  feet  across  the  broad,  shaded  veranda  of  the 
big  cool  house,  a  stately  figure  in  long  unbroken  lines  of 
sheer  muslin  and  lace. 

"You  poor  child,"  was  her  greeting  to  me,  with  arm- 
around  hovering  me  into  a  white  bathroom  all  sweet- 
scented  and  piled  with  fluffy  towels.  "You  must  be 
nearly  tired  to  death.  I  can  just  imagine  how  I'd  feel 
after  such  a  trip !  Just  come  right  in  here  and  rest  your 
bones  in  a  good  hot  bath  before  lunch." 

Rightly  she  guessed  our  tired  bones;  and  rightly  she 
prescribed  the  beneficence  of  steaming  water.  But  the 
ache  was  from  violent  stresses  of  accommodating  our 
precious  skeletons  to  a  stable  environment,  rather  than 
from  any  hardships  of  sea-buffeting.  Fifteen  minutes' 
relaxation  in  that  shining  tub  made  me  all  new ;  and,  once 
more  in  my  blue  silk  bloomer-suit,  I  joined  the  happy 
captain  of  my  boat  and  heart.  Likewise  bathed  and  re- 
freshed, his  wet  hair  wickedly  though  futilely  brushed  to 
snub  the  curling  ends,  sprawling  in  cool  white  ducks  upon 
a  broad  flat  couch  spread  deep  with  fine-woven  native 
mats,  he  was  immersed  in  a  magazine  of  later  date  than 
our  sailing  from  California.  No  one  was  about  for  the 
moment,  and  we  lay  and  looked  around  with  wordless 
content  in  this,  our  first  household  of  Hawaii.  Every- 
thing was  restfully  shaded,  yet  nothing  dark,  what  of  the 
light  polished  floors,  light  walls,  and  handsome  rattan 
furniture  from  Orient  and  Philippines.  Roomy  win- 
dow seats,  banked  with  cushions,  lovely  pictures,  and  a 
"baby-grand"  piano,  furnished  an  air  of  city  elegance 
to  the  equally  refined  summer  rusticity.  I  did  not  even 
want  to  touch  the  alluring  piano ;  to  lie  deep  in  that  re- 
clining chair  of  cool  rattan  and  to  know  that  it  was  there, 
golden-complete  within  its  glossy  casing,  was  all-satisfying. 

Jack,  watching  under  his  long  lashes,  smiled  indulgently. 


OUR  HAWAII  13 

"Funny  way  to  make  a  living,  Mate- Woman !"  Often 
he  thinks  aloud  about  his  selection  of  a  means  of  livelihood, 
and  ever  grows  more  convinced  that  he  chose  the  best  of 
all  ways  for  him  —  and  me.  "  I  carry  my  office  in  my  head, 
and  see  the  world  while  I  earn  the  money  to  see  it  with." 
And  verily  have  my  lines  fallen  in  pleasant  places,  the 
garner  from  a  congenial  artistry  making  accessible  those 
pleasant  places. 

Entered  Gretchen  Waterhouse,  with  her  lovely  babe  in 
her  arms,  breathing  beauty  and  comfort  and  cleanliness  — 
such  a  sumptuous  Germanic  Madonna,  with  heavy  hair 
parted  smoothly  over  placid  deep-blue  eyes  and  wide,  low 
brow,  and  piled  high  in  a  glossy  tower.  She  was  followed 
by  that  mischievous-eyed  husband  of  hers,  who  announced 
luncheon  with  a  jolly:  "Come  on,  you  famished  seafarers, 
and  see  what  there  is  to  eat!"  But  first  we  must  be 
crowned,  I  with  a  wreath  of  small  pink  rosebuds,  dainty 
as  a  string  of  coral,  while  around  Jack's  neck  was  laid  a 
wide  circlet  of  limp  green  vine,  glossy  and  fragrant.  Com- 
modore Macfarlane  was  also  decorated  in  the  same  charm- 
ing way  that  the  white  dwellers  of  the  Islands  have  adopted 
from  the  sweet  native  custom. 

The  meal  was  furnished  forth  on  a  side  veranda,  or  lanai 
(lah-nah-e  —  quickly  lahn-I)  as  they  say  here,  screened 
with  flowering  vines,  and  our  host  and  hostess  were  on 
tiptoe  to  see  whether  or  not  we  would  be  "good  sports" 
in  trying  the  native  dishes  which  form  part  of  their  daily 
menu.  As  Jack  said  afterward,  they  "let  us  down  easy," 
because,  instead  of  experimenting  on  our  malihini  (new- 
comer) palates  with  straight  poi,  Albert  Waterhouse  diluted 
some  of  the  smooth  pinkish  gray  paste  with  cold  water  and 
milk,  and  added  a  pinch  of  salt.  Served  in  a  long  thin 
glass,  he  called  this  a  poi  cocktail.  I  scarcely  see  how 
any  one  could  dislike  it.  The  plain  thick  poi,  unseasoned, 
would  be  debatable  to  those  unfortunates  who  dread  sam- 
pling anything  "odd";  but  we  took  to  it  instanter.  It 


14  OUR  HAWAII 

must  have  excellent  food  value,  being  as  it  is  the  staple  of 
all  Pacific  native  peoples  who  are  lucky  enough  to  have 
right  conditions  for  its  raising.  They  showed  us  how  to 
combine  the  plain  poi  with  accessories  —  a  spoonful  of  the 
cool  gray  mush  with  a  bite  of  meat  or  salt  dried  fish. 
Eaten  by  itself,  poi  is  somewhat  flat  in  taste,  like  slightly 
fermented  starch.  I  do  not  know  whether  they  were  jok- 
ing, but  our  friends  told  us  that  it  is  used  successfully  for 
wall-paper  paste !  In  these  days  poi  is  manufactured  by 
machinery  in  nice  sanitary  factories.  Originally  it  was 
made  by  first  roasting  the  tuber  of  the  taro  plant,  wrapped 
in  leaves,  among  heated  rocks  in  the  ground,  then  pound- 
ing the  malleable  mass  with  stone  poi  pounders  and  manip- 
ulating it  with  the  hands.  It  would  be  noteworthy  if 
foot  work  had  not  also  been  utilized,  as  by  the  Italians  in 
macaroni  making. 

Also  we  were  regaled  with  the  tuber  itself,  fresh  boiled  - 
a  very  good  vegetable,  prepared  like  a  potato,  with  butter, 
salt,  and  pepper.  It  would  be  hard  to  give  an  idea  of  the 
flavor,  and  so  many  writers  have  failed  to  describe  foreign 
tastes  that  as  yet  I  am  not  going  to  try,  save  to  state  that 
I  feel  sure  taro  would  prove  a  palatable  substitute  for  both 
bread  and  potatoes,  if  one  were  deprived  of  the  old  stand- 
bys. 

Jack  was  interviewed  by  several  perspiring  newspaper 
men  who  had  taken  the  first  train  to  Pearl  City  after  the 
elusive  Snark  had  passed  out  of  sight;  and  in  the  mid- 
afternoon  Mr.  Waterhouse  guided  us  to  our  new  dwelling, 
distant  about  ten  minutes'  walk.  We  met  the  entire  crew 
bound  for  the  village  to  see  what  they  could  see.  Even 
the  gentle  Tochigi  was  bitten  by  the  popular  sightseeing 
bug.  And  Tochigi,  alas,  failed  to  return  until  evening,  so 
that  I  was  obliged  to  do  the  unpacking.  For  Jack  had 
developed  a  vicious  headache,  and  I  hastened  to  reduce  all 
confusion  and  establish  a  serene  home  atmosphere ;  but  I 
must  confess  that  the  really  happy  task  was  an  uphill  one, 


OUR  HAWAII  15 

when  it  wasn't  downhill,  due  to  the  sad  walk  that  led  me 
devious  ways  and  many  extra  steps,  with  frequent  halts 
to  orient  a  revolving  brain. 

By  seven,  with  still  no  Tochigi,  and  not  a  scrap  to  eat, 
came  a  tap  on  the  door.  As  if  in  answer  to  a  wish,  there 
stood  a  smiling  woman  bearing  a  tray  of  enormous  toma- 
toes and  cucumbers,  a  neatly  napkined  loaf  of  freshly  baked 
bread,  and  a  generous  pat  of  homemade  butter.  She  is 
our  nearest  neighbor,  Miss  Frances  Johnson,  with  whom, 
upon  a  suggestion  from  Mrs.  Waterhouse,  we  have  this 
day  made  arrangements  to  board. 

No  sooner  had  she  gone,  than  a  cousin  of  Mr.  Water- 
house  brought  an  offering  of  papaias  (pah-py'-ahs)  - 
wonderful  green-and-yellow  melon  things  that  grow  on 
trees  —  and  asked  what  further  he  could  do  for  us.  The 
combination  of  old-world  and  new-world  neighborliness 
was  quite  overwhelming,  and  I  was  more  than  grateful, 
for  by  now  poor  Jack  had  taken  to  the  big  white  bed, 
although  he  weakly  admitted  that  he  might  eat  a  tomato 
if  urged. 

Alas,  for  wifely  solicitude.  Old  Ocean  played  a  wicked 
trick.  As  I  was  nearing  the  pallid  sufferer's  bedside  with 
a  plateful  of  big  red  slices,  which  I  had  dressed  with  lemon 
and  oil  as  he  likes  them,  something  distracted  my  attention, 
and  I  made  to  set  the  dish  on  a  table.  The  house  lurched 
and  the  floor  gave  a  sickening  jerk,  and  I  actually  missed 
the  table.  Of  course  the  salad  splashed  on  the  floor,  in  a 
havoc  of  shattered  porcelain.  I  do  not  know  exactly  what 
this  particular  confession  is  "good"  for,  but  I  might  as 
well  confess  wholly  while  I  am  about  it.  A  second  salad 
was  made,  and  .  .  .  went  the  way  of  the  first.  My  sea- 
legs  refused  to  stiffen  into  land-legs  in  one  day,  and  little 
help  they  received  from  my  eyes  accustomed  to  shifting 
surroundings.  When  the  second  plate  broke  on  the  floor, 
the  giggle  that  smothered  Jack's  "Poor  little  kid !"  robbed 
me  of  pity  for  the  painful  shaking  the  giggle  caused  him. 


16  OUR  HAWAII 

Now  that  I  am  into  the  subject  of  Jack's  illness,  this 
day  of  his  first  landfall,  with  his  permission  I  am  going  to 
divulge  the  cause.  In  fact,  he  mentioned  it  himself  to  one 
of  the  harbor  officials  this  morning.  And  anyway,  he  is 
the  frankest  human  being  concerning  his  frailties  that  ever  I 
knew.  The  majority  of  civilized  humanity,  being  trained 
from  without  and  within  to  repress  their  faults  or  pecca- 
dilloes, fail  to  comprehend  this  ingenuously  open  attitude. 
He  is  so  candid  that  they  think,  without  thinking,  that  he 
must  be  concealing  something.  Pardon  the  double  paradox, 
but  it  seems  to  express  what  I  am  after.  For  example :  if, 
in  an  autobiographical  sketch  or  article,  he  mentions 
having  been  arrested,  whether  as  boy  tramp  or  as  war 
correspondent,  his  charitable  compeers  of  the  press  proceed 
to  brand  him  as  indisputably  a  jailbird  and  criminal  "who 
should  be  behind  the  bars";  or,  if  he  tells  the  thrilling 
tale  of  how,  as  a  mere  youth  in  the  Klondike,  he  shot  the 
notoriously  difficult  White  Horse  Rapids  with  a  bracing 
glass  of  whisky  in  him,  up  goes  a  hue  and  cry  about  the 
pity  of  Jack  London  being  a  hopeless  drunkard !  Please 
believe,  I  am  not  exaggerating. 

But  to  the  case  in  point.  Jack  was  thirty-one  last  Janu- 
ary, and  had  smoked  cigarettes  ever  since  he  was  some- 
where around  fourteen.  And  when  I  say  smoked,  I  mean 
smoked.  He  smoked  all  his  waking  hours  —  in  the  day- 
time, at  work  or  at  play,  at  night  when  reading  and  study- 
ing, stocking  his  remarkable  brain  with  knowledge  of  every 
kind.  His  mind  is  like  a  library  of  infinite  shelves,  where 
he  is  endlessly  cataloguing  contributions  from  every  source. 
Once,  only,  had  I  ever  broached  the  subject  of  smoking  — 
two  years  ago,  shortly  before  we  were  wedded.  From  the 
conversation  we  held,  swinging  in  a  hammock  under  the 
laurels  at  Wake  Robin  Lodge,  I  seemed  to  gather  that  his 
smoking  habit  was  a  rather  negligible  detail  in  comparison 
with  the  thousand  and  one  larger  issues  that  occupied  his 
mind.  How  shall  I  say  ?  —  that  this  habit,  a  mere  habit, 


OUR  HAWAII  17 

which  requires  none  of  his  conscious  attention  in  its  pursu- 
ance, should  not  be  too  seriously  considered  by  him  or 
others.  This,  roughly,  is  the  most  I  could  conclude  at  the 
time,  as  to  his  outlook  upon  smoking  in  so  far  as  concerned 
himself;  and,  having  firmly  philosophized  these  many 
years  that  my  "not  impossible  he "  should  never  be  nagged, 
I  had  permitted  myself  no  further  reference  to  the  ubiq- 
uitous cigarette.  However,  I  did  notice,  during  our 
months  in  the  country,  that  occasionally  he  would  restrict 
himself  to  only  several  a  day,  say  on  our  long  horseback, 
jaunts  through  Northern  California;  and,  once,  with  a 
certain  rare  little  half-bashful  smile  that  sits  quaintly 
beneath  the  calm  sweet  of  his  gray  eyes,  he  said:  "I'm 
really  trying  to  cut  down  a  little,  you  see." 

That  was  all;  and  never  a  word  to  me  passed  his  lips 
until  we  cleared  the  Golden  Gate,  that  he  intended  to 
forego  his  nerve-soothing  custom  on  the  passage  to  Hawaii. 
Naturally  I  was  delighted  at  the  well-executed  surprise, 
meanwhile  hiding  misgivings  as  to  the  contentment  of  his 
nervous  system  under  the  unescapable  shock  of  cutting 
off  so  abruptly  the  narcotic  of  seventeen  years.  Keenly 
as  he  felt  the  need  at  times,  nevertheless  it  never  once 
made  him  visibly  irritable.  Once  or  twice,  he  told  me 
a  couple  of  weeks  out,  he  suffered  from  an  illusion  that 
there  were  cigarettes  aboard  if  only  he  could  find  them, 
and  that  the  rest  of  us  were  concealing  them  from  him. 
His  continual  joy  in  the  voyage  went  far  to  offset  the 
deprivation,  and  after  a  little  he  ceased  to  miss  his  "Im- 
periales."  But  when  the  customs  officer  yesterday 
boarded  the  Snark,  my  young  skipper  immediately  asked 
for  a  cigarette,  with  an  "I'm  going  to  see  how  it  tastes." 
It  did  not  taste  "just  right"  and  he  tried  another  —  and 
several.  ...  In  short,  as  the  day  wore,  poor  Jack  found 
himself  suffering  with  as  absurd  intensity  as  any  surrepti- 
tious small  limb  of  Satan  during  his  first  smoke.  He  was 
just  merely  "laid  out,"  to  quote  his  own  words ;  and  be  it 
c 


1 8  OUR  HAWAII 

accredited  to  my  good  page  that  I  did  not  giggle  at  his 
plight  as  did  he  when  the  second  salad  lapsed  redly  upon 
the  floor. 

At  length,  he  fell  sound  asleep  under  the  well-tucked 
cloud  of  fine  bobinet  that  graces  all  Hawaiian  beds  (the 
mosquito  seems  to  be  the  serpent  of  this  Eden),  and  I 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  having  this  long  time  learned  that 
sleep  is  the  only  medicine  for  any  brand  of  a  J.  L.  headache. 
Also,  I  was  desperately  weary,  one  might  say  land-sick,  and 
more  than  ready  to  turn  in  upon  my  chosen  canopied  cot 
in  a  breezy  corner  of  the  big  room. 

My  troubles  had  only  begun. 

When  the  crew  passed  through  on  their  return  to  the 
yacht,  I  softly  called  Martin  to  look  at  the  kitchen-sink 
faucet,  which  was  not  working  properly.  No  sooner  had  he 
turned  on  the  water,  than  up  wriggled  a  truly  appalling 
centipede  all  of  five  inches  in  length.  The  leathery  tough- 
ness of  the  monstrous  insect,  which  was  as  thick  as  my 
finger,  made  the  slaying  of  it  an  eminently  lively  and  dis- 
gusting tussle.  Martin  finally  vanquished  the  leggy  foe, 
but  we  kept  a  wary  eye  for  its  possible  mate.  Fate  left 
it  to  me,  alone  in  the  bathroom  —  for  I  would  not  disturb 
Jack's  healing  slumbers,  —  to  deal  with  the  bereft  one. 
After  scissoring  off  its  ugly  fanged  head,  I  fled  to  bed,  fer- 
vently trusting  to  dream  of  things  with  wings  — •  birds, 
butterflies,  angels.  No  remembered  assurances  of  the  very 
mild  venomousness  of  this  transplanted  little  dragon  can 
ever  lessen  its  hideous  offensiveness.  In  my  mind  there  is 
filed  away  a  word  of  protest  for  its  every  leg,  of  which, 
despite  its  name,  I  counted  but  seventy-four.  The  people 
here  pay  little  attention  to  this  insect's  bite. 

In  the  morning  I  summoned  Tochigi  to  remove  the 
mutilated  remains.  Oh,  of  course,  before  cremation  they 
must  be  displayed  to  an  admiring  audience  of  husband ;  I 
had  no  call  to  forego  the  praise  of  his  "  Plucky  kid !"  For 
even  more  fussy  is  he  than  I,  about  crawly  things,  and  he 


OUR  HAWAII  19 

could  see,  by  involuntary  reminiscent  tremors,  that  my 
overworn  nerves  had  been  somewhat  shaken  by  the  en- 
counter. Not  having  laughed  at  me,  we  could  laugh  in 
company  later  in  the  morning,  when,  hair-brush  in  hand, 
he  went  right  into  the  air  with  a  " Great  Scott!"  before 
an  ill-looking  hairy  gray  spider,  some  four  or  five  inches 
across,  that  dropped  from  the  ceiling  and  clattered  upon 
the  bureau  top.  Was  it  Mark  Twain  who,  disturbed  at 
his  writing  by  one  of  these,  put  the  cuspidor  upon  it, 
claiming  that  a  gray  fringe  of  legs  showed  all  around  the 
vessel  ?  Somewhere  I  have  read  that .  these  spiders  are 
descendants  of  the  tarantula;  but  they  have  descended  a 
long  way,  for  the  tarantulas  that  taught  caution  to  my 
Southern  California  childhood  were  meaty  monsters  com- 
pared with  these  paper-and-fuzz  household  gods  of  Hawaii, 
which  harm  nothing  more  serious  than  mosquitoes  and 
other  dispensable  vermin. 

Jack  had  slept  off  the  headache,  and  was  able  to  enjoy 
his  first  luncheon  at  Miss  Johnson's.  (Tochigi  is  to  cook 
our  light  breakfast  at  home.)  Miss  Johnson  and  her  sisters, 
Miss  Ellen  and  Mrs.  Fyfe,  served  a  most  appetizing  table 
for  us  seaworn  pilgrims  —  a  capital  steak,  done  rare  to  a 
nicety,  accompanied  by  taro  which  had  been  boiled  and 
then  sliced  and  fried  lightly  in  fresh  butter ;  cool  plate- 
fuls  of  raw  tomatoes  and  cucumbers,  in  oil  and  lemon ;  poi, 
with  dried  salt  aku  (ah-koo —  bonita),  papaias,  and  avoca- 
dos—  the  almost  prohibitively  expensive  alligator  pears 
that  we  know  in  California,  where  they  are  sent  by  steamer 
and  in  shipping  deteriorate ;  and  bananas  so  luscious  that  we 
declared  we  had  never  before  tasted  bananas.  These  and 
sweet  seedling  oranges,  as  well  as  papaias,  thrive  in  the 
fragrant  garden  of  roses  and  hibiscus  and  palms,  seen 
through  Venetian  blinds  from  where  we  sat  at  table,  eat- 
ing hothouse  viands  in  the  hothouse  air. 

We  came  away  congratulating  ourselves  and  each  other 
upon  such  a  feasting  place  within  two  minutes'  walk  of  our 


20  OUR  HAWAII 

own  little  red  gate ;  and  the  trio  of  ladies  granted  indul- 
gence to  drop  over  in  any  garmenture  that  pleases  our 
mood,  and  also  offered  the  piano  for  my  use.  Although 
even  on  this  warm  leeward  side  of  Oahu  the  temperature 
is  said  to  range  only  from  60°  to  85°,  with  a  mean  of  74°, 
the  humid  quality  of  the  atmosphere  invites  loose  lines  of 
apparel.  Yesterday  it  was  ducks  and  bloomers  for  Jack 
and  me.  This  morning  it  was  ducks  and  a  summer  lawn. 
But  this  afternoon,  in  the  dreamy  green  privacy  of  our 
lovely  acre,  it  is  kimono  and  kimono,  thank  you,  with  not 
much  else  to  mention.  And  I  am  already  planning  certain 
flowing  gowns  of  muslin  and  lace,  on  the  pattern  of 
Gretchen  Waterhouse's  home  attire,  which  flouncy  robe 
is  called  a  holoku  (ho-lo-koo).  It  is  a  worthy  development 
from  the  first  clothing  introduced  by  the  missionaries, 
the  simplest  known  design  —  like  that  cut  by  our  child- 
hood scissors  for  paper  dolls,  and  called  muumuu  (moo-oo- 
moo-oo  smoothly)  by  the  Hawaiians.  In  time  this  evolved 
into  the  full-gathered  Mother  Hubbard  atrocity;  but 
in  this  year  of  grace  (thanks  be  for  that  grace !)  it  is 
a  sumptuous,  swinging,  trailing  model  of  its  own,  just  es- 
caping the  curse  of  the  Mother  Hubbard  and  somehow 
eliding  the  significance  of  wrapper.  Not  all  women  would 
look  as  well  in  the  holoku  as  does  Mrs.  Albert,  who  is 
straight  and  tall  and  walks  as  if  with  pride  in  her  fine  height 
and  proportion,  as  large  women  should  walk.  I  believe 
a  great  measure  of  the  holoku 's  good  looks  depends 
upon  its  being  carried  well.  The  muumuu,  in  its  pristine 
simplicity,  is  still  used  by  native  women  for  an  under- 
garment, and,  in  all  colors  of  calico,  for  swimming,  although 
I  have  yet  to  learn  how  it  could  permit  any  freedom  of 
movement  in  the  water. 

"  It  hasn't  taken  you  long  to  size  up  the  styles  in  Hawaii," 
Jack  smiled  to  me  just  now,  after  I  had  read  him  the  above. 
But  he  added,  appreciatively :  "I  hope  you  will  get  some 
of  those  loose  white  things.  I  like  them." 


OUR  HAWAII  21 

Paucity  of  coast  mail  would  indicate  that  relatives  and 
friends  have  been  chary  of  wasting  energy  on  letters  that 
might  never  be  received  by  such  reckless  rovers.  O  ye  of 
scant  faith  in  the  Snark's  oaken  ribs  and  her  owner's  canny 
judgment !  Not  so  with  me,  who  am  most  concerned,  after 
him,  in  the  safety  of  the  venture.  Laying  aside  personal 
bias,  there  is  not  another  man  in  the  round  world  with 
whom  I  should  care  to  risk  my  precious  neck  in  a  deep-sea 
vessel  of  the  Snark's  measurements,  because  of  Jack's  life- 
long experience  in  swa//-boat  sailing,  a  branch  of  sailor 
knowledge  that  stands  by  itself.  Many's  the  gold-braided, 
grand  old  captain  of  great  liners,  who  knows  little  or  noth- 
ing of  the  handling  of  small  sailing  craft.  Many's  the  deep- 
water  seaman  on  big  ships,  who  is  quite  ignorant  of  the 
ways  of  small  boats.  But  the  sailorman  who  has  experi- 
ence of  both  kinds  pronounces :  "Give  me  the  small  boat, 
every  time,  for  safety  at  sea !  She  stays  on  top !  And  she 
rides  one  wave  at  a  time  !" 

In  addition  to  first-hand  education  in  sailboats  on  San 
Francisco  Bay,  which  unreliable  expanse  he  knows  from 
end  to  end,  and  seven  months  at  sea  in  the  Sophie 
Sutherland  (the  schooner  Ghost  of  "The  Sea  Wolf"), 
Jack  is  possessed  of  swift  right  judgment  in  emergency. 
For  many  years  I  have  yachted  on  the  waterways  of 
California,  so  little  explored  except  by  river  dwellers  and 
fishermen,  and  several  times  with  Jack  at  the  helm  of  his 
old  sloop  Spray,  and  never  have  I  seen  his  equal  for  cor- 
relation of  brain  and  body.  All  this  for  the  doubting  ones 
who  curtail  their  unenthusiastic  epistles  to  us  of  the  Snark. 

The  mail  was  brought  by  a  tiny  "  jerk- water, "  bobtail 
dummy  and  coach  run  by  one,  Tony,  from  Pearl  City,  a 
mile  away,  to  a  station  near  the  end  of  the  peninsula. 
Tony  is  a  handsome  little  swarthy  fellow,  regarded  by  me 
with  much  interest,  as  my  first  Hawaiian  on  his  native 
heath.  Certain  misgivings  at  sight  of  him  rendered  my 
surprise  less  to  learn  that  he  is  full-blooded  Portuguese. 


22  OUR  HAWAII 

Alack,  my  first  Hawaiian  is  a  Portuguese  —  and  of  course 
Jack  is  hilarious. 

One  other  caller  crossed  the  springy  turf  of  our  garden  — 
Bert's  uncle,  Mr.  Rowell  of  Honolulu,  who,  having  been 
told  we  were  looking  for  saddle  animals,  came  to  suggest 
that  we  bring  up  our  saddles  the  first  of  next  week,  and 
ride  two  of  his  horses  back  to  the  peninsula,  where  we  are 
welcome  to  them  as  long  as  we  please.  Truly,  the  face  of 
Hawaii  hospitality  is  fair  to  see.  What  a  place  to  live, 
with  the  gift  of  a  roof  from  the  rain,  tree  tops  from  the 
noon-day  sun,  a  peaceful  space  in  which  to  work,  strange 
pleasant  foods  irreproachably  set  forth,  a  warm  vast  bowl 
of  jade  for  swimming,  and  fleet  steeds  for  less  than  the 
asking  !  As  this  latest  gift  bringer  departed,  Jack,  touched 
to  huskiness,  looking  after  him  said : 

"A  sweet  land,  Mate,  a  sweet  land." 

And  now  our  green  gloom  purples  into  twilight  where  we 
have  lain  upon  the  sward  the  long  afternoon ;  and  twice  my 
companion  has  hinted  at  a  dip  before  dinner.  To  him  I  have 
read  from  my  chronicle,  and  he  comments  something  as 
follows : 

"You'll  have  to  blue-pencil  a  lot  of  the  stuff  about  me. 
"You do  'get '  me,  somehow,  and  I  love  what  you  have  written. 
But  they'll  make  fun  of  you,  my  dear,  and  hurt  your  feel- 
ings. Listen  to  your  father,  now.  I'm  telling  you  ! " 

This  is  considered  as  it  deserves.  But  I  shake  my  head 
to  him,  and  say : 

"No.    I  don't  believe  they  will." 

Wednesday,  May  22,  1907. 

Too  bright  and  warm  the  morning  to  stay  asleep,  even 
in  this  arboreal  spot,  we  rose  at  six.  Another  and  earlier 
riser  played  his  part  in  the  disturbance  of  rest  —  the  saucy 
mynah  bird,  whose  matin  racket  is  full  as  soothing  as  that 
of  our  cheerfully  impudent  blue  jay  in  the  Valley  of  the 


OUR  HAWAII  23 

Moon.  "False"  mynah  though  he  is  said  to  be,  there  is 
nothing  false  about  either  his  voice  or  his  manners,  both  of 
which  are  blatantly  real  and  sincere  in  their  abandon.  Im- 
ported from  India,  to  feed  on  the  cutworm  of  a  certain  moth, 
he  has  made  himself  more  familiarly  at  home  than  any  other 
introduced  bird,  and  has  been  known  to  pronounce  words. 
He  is  a  sagacious-looking  and  interesting  rowdy ;  but  could 
one  have  choice  in  feathered  alarm  clocks,  the  silver- throated 
skylark,  another  importation  to  Hawaii,  would  come  first. 

But  who  should  complain?  We  had  not  stirred  for 
nine  solid,  dreamless  hours  —  speaking  for  myself,  for 
Jack  always  dreams,  and  vividly.  Nine  hours,  for  either 
of  us,  is  phenomenal,  for  I  am  more  or  less  of  what  he  calls 
an  "insomniast,"  and  he  is  one  of  those  rare  individuals 
who  seem  to  thrive  on  short  sleep.  Indeed,  before  our 
lives  came  together,  he  had  for  years  resolutely  held  to 
as  brief  hours  as  four  and  five;  but  even  he  was  ripe  to 
confess  that  this  might  prove  destructive  to  the  nerves, 
and  since  then  he  allows  himself  a  sliding  scale  which,  in 
the  long  run,  averages  well  —  some  nights  three  hours, 
some  seven,  some  five  or  six,  and,  but  very  seldom  a  night 
like  this  last.  He  warns  that  he  will  put  on  a  large  waist 
measure ;  but  I  am  not  to  be  frightened.  At  the  worst  I 
would  rather  see  his  splendid  body  fat  and  long-lived  than 
his  eyes  hollow,  and  his  fine  nerves  on  edge.  Oh,  he  is 
not  a  "nervous"  person,  despite  high-strung  sensibilities. 
Rarely  does  he  show  his  keen  tension  in  any  fussiness  of 
thought  or  speech  or  action.  Nevertheless,  he  has  come 
to  value  a  measure  of  relaxation,  as  have  I ;  for  it  is  a  tense, 
vivid  life  we  lead  in  our  happy  hunt  for  adventure ;  mean- 
while we  work  for  the  feeding  and  housing  of  more  than  a 
few  —  to  say  nothing  of  the  up-keep  of  Jack's  beauty- 
ranch  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon. 

Our  rising  young  author,  in  search  for  an  ideal  work- 
room, pounced  upon  a  shaded,  wafty  space  out  of  doors, 
mountainward  of  the  bungalow.  Tochigi  found  a  small 


24  OUR   HAWAII 

table  and  box-stool  for  that  left  foot  which  always  seeks 
for  a  rest  when  said  author  settles  to  writing.  A  larger 
box  serves  to  hold  extra  "  tools  of  trade,"  such  as  books 
and  notes.  Each  morning,  at  home  or  abroad,  Tochigi 
sharpens  a  half  dozen  or  more  long  yellow  pencils  with 
rubber  tips,  and  dusts  the  table,  but  never  must  he  dis- 
turb the  orderly  litter  of  note-pads,  scribbled  and  otherwise. 

Within  a  couple  of  brisk  hours,  under  my  direction,  the 
boy  finished  the  work  of  settling,  not  the  least  item  being 
the  installing  of  our  big  Victor  and  some  three  hundred 
disks;  then  nothing  would  do  but  Jack  would  have  me 
whirring  off  Wagnerian  overtures  and  other  orchestral 
" numbers"  while  I  pattered  about  in  Japanese  sandals. 

The  typewriter  shares  with  the  " music-box"  a  long  table 
in  the  narrow  front  room.  Never  anywhere  are  we  quite 
at  home  until  this  indispensable  factor  of  our  business,  with 
its  accessories,  is  placed  where  I  may  conveniently  copy 
Jack's  manuscript  or  notes,  or  take  his  letter  dictations. 
Since  his  office  is  under  his  hat,  mine  must  be  on  a  table 
large  enough  to  support  the  old  Remington. 

By  nine,  with  a  big  palm  fan  I  was  joining  Jack  in  the 
hammock  where  he  hung  between  two  huge  algarobas, 
surrounded  by  a  batch  of  periodicals  forwarded  from  the 
Coast,  and  we  felicitated  ourselves  upon  having  risen  in 
the  comparative  cool  of  the  morning  and  done  the  more 
active  part  of  the  day's  work.  Owing  to  a  stoppage  of  the 
blessed  Trades,  the  air  was  enervatingly  heavy.  For  the 
past  month  Hawaii  has  known  the  same  unusual  atmos- 
pheric conditions  that  marked  our  passage.  Only  a  mild 
south  wind  blows  —  the  Kona,  "the  sick  wind,"  and  it 
does  seem  to  draw  the  life  out  of  one.  We  are  warned  that 
when  a  Kona  really  takes  charge,  all  things  that  float  must 
look  lively.  Because  this  is  not  the  regular  season  for 
Konas,  old  sea-dogs  are  wagging  their  heads. 

"Do  you  know  what  you  are?"  I  quizzed  Jack,  having 
outrun  him  by  a  word  or  two  in  the  race  for  knowledge. 


OUR  HAWAII  25 

"No,  I  don't.  And  I  don't  care.  But  do  you  know 
where  you  are?"  he  countered. 

"No,  /  don't.  You  are  a  malihini  —  did  you  know 
that?" 

"No,  and  I  don't  know  it  now.    What  is  it?" 

"It's  a  newcomer,  a  tenderfoot,  a  wayfarer  on  the  shores 
of  chance,  a  —  " 

"I  like  it  —  it's  a  beautiful  word,"  Jack  curbed  my 
literary  output.  "And  I  can't  help  being  it,  anyway. 
But  what  shall  I  be  if  I  stay  here  long  enough?" 

Recourse  to  a  scratch-pad  in  my  pocket  divulged  the 
fascinating  sobriquet  that  even  an  outlander,  be  he  the 
right  kind  of  outlander,  might  come  in  time  —  a  long  time 
—  to  deserve.  It  is  kamaaina,  and  its  significance  is  that 
of  old-timer,  and  more,  much  more.  It  means  one  who 
belongs,  who  has  come  to  belong  in  the  heart  and  life  and 
soil  of  Hawaii;  as  one  might  say,  a  subtropical  "sour- 
dough." 

"How  should  it  be  pronounced,  since  you  know  so 
much?" 

"Kah-mah-ah-ee-nah,"  I  struggled  with  careful  notes 
and  tongue.  "But  when  Miss  Frances  says  it  quickly,  it 
seems  to  run  into  'Kah-mah-I'-nah.' —  And  you  mustn't 
say  ' Kammy-hammy-hah '  for  ' Kam-may-hah-may'-hah,' " 
I  got  back  at  him,  for  Kamehameha  the  Great's  name  had 
tripped  us  both  in  the  books  read  aloud  at  sea. 

"I'd  rather  be  called  'Kamaaina'  than  any  name  in  the 
world,  I  think,"  Jack  deliberately  ignored  my  efforts  at  his 
education.  "I  love  the  land  and  I  love  the  people." 

For  be  it  known  this  is  not  his  first  sight  of  these  islands. 
Eleven  or  twelve  years  ago,  on  the  way  to  the  sealing 
grounds  off  the  Japan  coast  in  the  Sophie  Sutherland,  he 
first  saw  the  loom  of  the  southernmost  of  the  group,  Hawaii, 
on  its  side  Kilauea's  pillar  of  smoke  by  day  and  fiery  glow 
by  night.  In  January  of  1904,  bound  for  Korea  as  corre- 
spondent to  the  Japanese-Russian  War,  he  was  in  Honolulu 


26  OUR  HAWAII 

for  the  short  stop-over  of  the  Manchuria,  and  spent  as 
brief  a  time  there  on  his  return  aboard  the  Korea  six  months 
later.  And  ever  since,  despite  the  scantiness  of  acquaint- 
ance, he  has  been  drawn  to  return  —  so  irresistibly  as 
now  to  make  a  very  roundabout  voyage  to  the  Marquesas 
in  the  South  Pacific,  in  order  that  Hawaii  might  be  first 
port  of  call.  Often  have  his  friends  in  California  heard 
him  tell  of  the  wonderful  times  in  Honolulu  on  those  two 
flying  visits,  and  of  how  good  to  him  was  "  Jack"  Atkinson, 
then  Acting  Governor  of  the  Territory. 

"Here's  something  I  didn't  show  you  in  the  mail,"  Jack 
said  presently,  picking  up  a  thick  envelope  addressed  in  his 
California  agent's  hand.  It  contained  a  sheaf  of  rejections 
of  his  novel  "The  Iron  Heel"  which  has  proved  too  radical 
for  the  editors,  or  at  least  for  their  owners'  policies.  "It's 
been  turned  down  now  by  every  big  magazine  in  the  United 
States,"  he  went  on,  a  trifle  wistfully.  "I  had  hoped  it 
was  timely,  and  would  prove  a  ten-strike ;  but  it  seems  I 
was  wrong.  Do  you  realize  this  means  the  clean  loss  of 
five  or  six  thousand  dollars  ?  —  some  pinch  just  now,  with 
all  this  Snark  expense  of  repairs,  and  salaries  both  here  and 
at  home."  He  lay  awhile,  looking  up  into  the  green 
lace  of  the  algarobas.  "Darn  them  all  —  they  think  the 
stuff  is  an  attempt  on  my  part  to  prophesy.  It  isn't. 
/  don't  think  the  worst  of  these  things  are  going  to  happen. 
I  wrote,  as  you  know,  merely  as  a  warning  —  a  warning  of 
what  might  happen  if  the  proletariat  weaken  in  their  fight 
and  allow  the  enemy  to  make  terms  with  them."  Before 
dismissing  the  entire  matter  until  the  day  when  he  should 
answer  the  mail,  he  concluded  : 

"They're  all  afraid  of  it,  Mate-Woman.  They  see  their 
subscriptions  dropping  off  if  they  run  it ;  but  they  give  hell 
to  us  poor  devils  of  writers  if  they  catch  us  writing  for  the 
mere  sake  of  money  instead  of  pure  literature.  What's  a 
fellow  to  do  ?  We've  got  to  eat,  and  our  families  have  got 
to  eat.  And  we've  got  to  buy  holo  —  what  do  you  call 


OUR  HAWAII  27 

those  flowy  white  things  ?  for  small  wives ; — and  sail  boats, 
and  gather  fresh  material  for  more  stories  that  will  and 
won't  sell  .  .  ."  he  trailed  off  lugubriously. 

Thus  Jack  on  his  unsuccessful  and  very  expensive  novel. 
Whereupon  he  shrugs  his  wide  shoulders  under  the  blue 
kimono,  girds  the  fringed  white  obi  a  little  more  snugly, 
picks  up  a  note-pad  and  long  sharp  pencil,  and  makes 
swift,  sprawling  notes  for  a  Klondike  yarn  on  which  he 
has  been  working,  "To  Build  a  Fire."  This,  staged  in  the 
Frozen  North,  is  bound  to  captivate  editors  and  public 
alike,  both  of  whom,  mole-minded  as  ever,  think  every 
other  subject  but  the  Klondike  out  of  his  "sphere."  He  is 
the  timely  one ;  the  masses  are  ever  lagging  behind  these 
shining  old-young  thinkers.  And  I  catch  myself  holding 
back  tears  of  .disappointment  in  his  disappointment,  and 
hoping  he  knows  the  half  of  how  sorry  I  am.  When  I 
turn  to  look  at  him  again,  he  is  shaking  uncontrollably  in 
a  fit  of  giggles  over  a  cartoon  in  Life.  Was  there  ever 
such  a  boy-man ! 

Although  wellnigh  demoralized  on  the  voyage,  due  to 
hopeless  seasickness  and  an  equally  hopeless  disciplinary 
laxness  aboard,  Tochigi  is  rapidly  regaining  his  old  cheerful 
executiveness.  We  have  had  a  good  talk,  for  I  have  learned 
the  value  of  once  in  a  while  holding  friendly  meetings  with 
the  servants  when  readjustments  are  to  be  made.  Dis- 
satisfied helpers  are  the  doom  of  domestic  happiness.  Not 
all  of  the  visitors  at  the  Ranch  have  agreed  with  our  refusal 
to  allow  any  tipping.  It  has  always  seemed  to  us  an  offense 
to  the  sacred  spirit  of  hospitality.  "I  pay  my  servants 
high  wages  to  make  my  house  a  home,  not  a  hotel,"  Jack 
states.  "  My  guests  are  my  guests  in  every  sense.  I  do 
not  want  my  servants  to  be  paid  for  the  hospitality  of  my 
house."  The  result  has  been  a  pleasant  relation  between 
our  friends  and  our  Japanese,  who  have  entered  wholly 
into  the  idea  that  they  are  truly  sharers  in  the  entertain- 


28  OUR  HAWAII 

ment.  Indeed,  some  sweetly  amusing  tales  have  come 
back  from  those  whom  we  neglected  to  warn,  of  certain 
proud  explanations  that  accompanied  the  declining  of 
monetary  favors.  Of  course,  we  do  not  carry  this  ethic 
beyond  our  own  gates,  wherever  these  may  be ;  it  would 
not  be  fair. 

Tochigi,  once  this  simple  household  system  is  under 
way,  will  find  ample  time  for  recreation  and  study.  Being 
as  he  is  a  personal  servant,  he  will  go  with  us  on  many  trips 
and  see  the  land  aspect  of  our  wanderings.  My  work  with 
Jack  is  of  a  nature  that  makes  it  necessary  that  I  must  be 
freed  of  a  woman's  usual  tasks  of  mending,  darning,  brush- 
ing, packing,  to  say  nothing  of  routine  house  duties. 

"I  don't  want  'My  Woman'  to  work  like  a  horse,"  I 
remember  Jack  once  saying,  long  before  our  marriage. 
"But  I  want  her  to  be  capable  of  working  like  a  horse  if 
it's  necessary." 

I  like  that.  Every  normal  human  being  must  surely 
pleasure  in  the  ability  to  be  "right  there"  in  emergency  - 
which  is  what  Jack  meant,  of  course.  For  instance,  my 
"emergency"  was  quite  unavoidable  the  first  day  ashore, 
when  Tochigi  forgot  his.  Also,  that  same  night  when  the 
centipede  had  to  be  dealt  with. 

Perspiring  this  afternoon  even  in  the  thick  shade  of  the 
great  gnarled  algarobas,  we  watched  the  "dear  old  tub" 
swirl  on  her  chain  cable  in  stiff  little  squalls,  and  noted  with 
satisfaction  that  her  anchors  seem  to  have  taken  good  hold 
despite  the  reputed  "skaty"  bottom  of  this  part  of  the 
harbor.  Although  in  bad  weather  we  should  be  obliged  to 
move  her  to  better  shelter  on  the  other  side  of  the  penin- 
sula, just  now  we  want  her  near ;  otherwise  it  would  mean 
a  trudge  of  a  mile  to  keep  track  of  the  repair  work.  And 
we  both  dislike  walking. 

After  the  exertion  of  a  vociferous  rubber  of  cribbage, 
which  I  lost,  the  crisp  sage-green  wavelets  on  the  pink  reef 
invited  us  to  come  out  and  play.  So  fine  was  the  water 


OUR  HAWAII  29 

that,  once  at  the  outer  edge  of  the  coral,  I  decided  to  venture 
a  swim  the  like  of  which  I  had  never  known,  either  in  length 
or  roughness,  for  all  my  aquatic  experience  has  been  either  in 
still  creek  pools  or  urban  tanks.  Not  that  it  was  actually 
rough ;  but  the  snappy  little  staccato  seas  slapping  my  face 
robbed  me  of  breath  and  confidence  of  ever  reaching  the 
yacht,  at  a  point  when  she  was  nearer  than  was  the  jetty. 
The  various  strokes  I  had  learned  availed  nothing,  and  I 
was  timid  of  floating  lest  I  be  smothered  by  water  washing 
over  my  upturned  face.  In  brief,  I  was  "in  a  bad  way." 
Quietly,  reassuringly,  Jack  spoke  to  me  every  moment, 
meanwhile  hailing  the  Snark  for  a  boat.  He  told  me  not 
to  struggle,  and  to  rest  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  while  he 
swam  slowly.  Gasping  and  sputtering,  but  reassured  by 
his  calm  as  well  as  his  support,  by  the  time  the  lifeboat 
came  up  I  was  so  far  recovered  that  I  merely  used  it  for 
a  tow  to  the  yacht,  where  we  rested  for  the  return  swim, 
on  which  Jack  insisted  that  the  boat  escort  us. 

Martin,  who  vanished  Honolulu-ward  yesterday,  returned 
this  morning  laden  with  an  assortment  of  produce  —  all 
he  could  carry.  His  ambition  was  to  be  photographed 
rampant  in  the  midst  of  tropical  plenty,  for  the  wonder 
and  envy  of  his  Kansan  acquaintance.  The  fruity  prop- 
erties for  the  tender  scene  cost  him  all  of  five  dollars.  A 
mainlander  might  naturally  conjecture  Hawaii  to  be  a  land 
of  almost  automatic  abundance ;  but  the  price  Martin 
paid  is  illustration  of  the  not  economical  cost  of  living. 
Meat  is  very  high,  and  even  fish,  as  this  morning  when 
Tochigi  had  to  pay  twenty-five  cents  for  three  small  mullet, 
Hawaii's  best  "meat  that  swims"  (that  is  Jack's),  peddled 
by  a  Chinese  fisherman.  And  everything  else  is  in  pro- 
portion. 

Unfortunately  for  our  purse,  the  papaia  on  our  trees  is 
not  yet  ripe.  Jack  is  wild  about  this  fruit,  and  has  it  for 
every  breakfast.  I  like  it,  too,  but  the  larger  part  of  my 
pleasure  is  in  looking  at  it,  especially  on  its  tree,  which  is 


30  OUR   HAWAII 

too  artificially  beautiful  to  seem  a  live  and  growing  plant. 
Never  have  we  read  nor  heard  any  adequate  description 
of  a  papaia  tree ;  but  for  sheer  beauty,  in  an  artificial  sense, 
it  is  the  most  remarkable  tree  we  have  ever  seen.  The 
trunks  of  our  papaias  are  six  or  seven  inches  in  diameter, 
rise  perfectly  straight  without  a  branch  nearly  to  the  top, 
where  the  fruit  clusters  thick  and  close  around  the  carven 
bole,  for  so  the  ash-colored  wood  appears  with  its  indented 
markings.  Among  the  " melons"  and  above  them  are 
very  soft,  large,  palmated  leaves,  some  close  to  the  trunk 
and  some  on  slender  stems.  And  then  there  are  the  blos- 
soms, on  the  axils  of  the  leaves,  twisting  and  twining  where 
the  fruit  comes  later,  little  fiowerlets  not  unlike  orange 
blossoms  in  appearance  and  odor.  The  trunk  is  said  to 
be  hollow,  and  there  are  male  and  female  trees,  which 
should  be  plan  ted  in  company  to  insure  a  good  yield — for 
both  share  in  bearing.  The  young  trees  are  not  so  tall  but 
one  can  easily  reach  the  fruit ;  but  the  trees  at  Miss  John- 
son's call  for  a  stepladder,  or  stout  hands  and  knees  for 
climbing.  Papaia  faintly  resembles  cantaloupe  and  musk- 
melon,  although  more  evenly  surfaced ;  and  it  tastes — how 
does  it  taste?  We  have  about  decided  upon  "sublimated 
pumpkin,  very  sublimated,  but  sweeter."  For  the  table,  it 
is  cut  in  half,  lengthwise,  its  large  canary-yellow  interior 
scraped  of  a  fibrous  lining  and  a  handful  of  slippery  black 
seeds  coated  with  a  sort  of  mucus,  that  look  for  all  the 
world  like  caviar,  and  is  then  set  in  the  ice  box  before  serv- 
ing with  lemon.  In  conjunction  with  beauty  and  palat- 
ableness,  the  papaia  has  strong  peptonic  virtues,  and  some 
one  told  us  it  would  disintegrate  a  raw  beefsteak  overnight. 
So  Martin  had  us  "snap"  him,  properly  alert  amidst 
his  Pacific  plentitude,  banked  under  an  algaroba  at  the 
waterside  —  cocoanuts,  watermelons,  pineapples,  oranges, 
lemons,  mangoes  (real  mangoes  but  tastelessly  unripe), 
guavas,  and  bananas ;  not  to  mention  papaias  and  taro,  and 
a  homely  cabbage  or  two  for  charm  against  nostalgia. 


OUR  HAWAII  31 

After  which  nothing  would  do  for  him  but  he  must  pose 
Jack  and  myself,  and  I  can  only  hope  I  did  not  look  as 
silly  as  I  felt.  It  was  all  good  fun,  however,  and  Martin 
can  now  be  heard  developing  films  in  our  bathroom,  his 
principal  noise  a  protest  at  the  warmth  of  the  "cold"  water. 

Thursday,  May  23,  1907. 

Beginning  to  wonder  why  Tochigi  was  so  late  laying 
breakfast  on  the  end  of  the  long  table  that  holds  the  two 
machines,  our  surprise  was  sweet  when  with  a  flush  on  his 
olive  cheeks  he  led  us  out  to  where  he  had  set  a  little 
table  under  the  still  trees,  strewn  with  single  red  hibiscus 
and  glossy  coral  peppers  from  a  low  hedge  that  trims  the 
base  of  the  cottage,  and  served  a  faultless  meal  of  papaia, 
shirred  eggs,  a  curled  shaving  of  bacon,  and  fresh-buttered 
toast,  with  perfect  coffee  brewed  in  the  Snark's  percolator. 

Breakfast  over,  for  an  hour  we  lingered  at  table  reading 
aloud  snatches  of  books  on  Hawaii,  and  laughing  over  some 
of  the  freaks  of  her  mythology,  which  are  not  in  the  main 
so  dissimilar  from  those  of  other  races,  including  the  Cau- 
casian, as  entirely  to  justify  our  superior  mirth. 

All  the  time  I  am  conscious  of  a  wish  that  is  almost  a 
passion  to  share,  with  any  who  may  read  this  diary,  the 
loveliness  of  this  smiling  garden  so  green  and  so  sweet- 
scented  when  little  winds  wake  the  acacia  laces  of  the 
umbrageous  algarobas ;  where  nothing  really  exists  beyond 
our  red  wicket,  but  dreams  may  be  dreamed  of  mirage-like 
mountains  shimmering  in  the  tropic  airs  across  the  fairy 
lagoon. 

Strolling  to  the  bank,  we  sit  in  long  grass  with  our  feet 
over  the  seaweed-bearded  coral,  and  lazily  watch  three 
native  women  —  the  first  we  have  seen  —  in  water  to  their 
ample  waists,  with  holokus  tucked  high,  wading  slowly  in 
the  reef -shallows.  One  carries  a  small  box  with  glass  bot- 
tom, and  now  and  again  she  bobs  under  with  the  box,  and 


32  OUR  HAWAII 

then  comes  up  laughing  and  flinging  back  her  dark  hair  that 
waves  and  ringlets  in  the  sun.  They  are  hunting  crabs 
and  other  toothsome  sea  food,  which  they  snare  in  small 
hooped  nets  with  handles;  and  their  mellow  contralto 
voices  strike  the  heavy  air  like  full-throated  bells,  as  they 
gossip  and  gurgle  or  break  into  barbaric  measures  of 
melody.  Whether  it  be  hymn  or  native  song,  the  voices 
are  musically  barbaric  just  the  same.  Upon  discovery  of 
us,  a  truly  feminine  flurry  of  bashfulness  overcomes  them, 
but  they  smile  like  children  when  we  call  "Aloha!"  and 
repeat  the  sweet  greeting  softly.  The  mirage  effect  of  the 
scene  is  furthered  by  a  motionless  reflection  of  the  yacht 
in  the  glassy  water,  as  well  as  of  the  far  shore  and  billowy 
reaches  of  snow-white  cloud.  The  very  thought  of  work 
is  shocking  in  such  drowsy  unreality  of  air  and  water  and 
earth.  Poor  Jack  groans  over  self-discipline  and  there  is 
a  lag  in  his  light  and  merry  foot  when  he  finally  makes  for 
the  little  work  table,  brushes  off  a  brown  pod  and  freshly 
dropped  lace  pattern  from  the  algaroba,  and  dives  into 
the  completion  of  "To  Build  a  Fire." 

Before  we  were  through  the  forenoon's  business,  he  creat- 
ing, I  transcribing,  there  came  stepping  across  the  soundless 
lawn  two  dapper  Japanese  gentlemen,  one,  the  secretary 
of  the  Japanese  Y.  M.  C.  A.  of  Honolulu,  the  other  a  re- 
porter on  the  Hawaii  Shinpo.  After  a  ceremonial  short 
interview,  the  secretary,  with  many  little  bows  and  apolo- 
gies, wanted  to  know  if  Mr.  Jack  London  would  obligingly 
consent  to  make  him  the  proud  possessor  of  "a  sheet  of 
document."  Bless  our  souls,  what  was  that?  Tochigi 
avoided  further  embarrassment  by  explaining  that  his 
country-man  desired  a  page  of  original  manuscript. 

"I  can't  —  I'm  sorry ;  they  all  belong  to  Mrs.  London," 
Jack  passed  him  on  to  me. 

Since  all  of  his  manuscripts  have  been  my  most  treasured 
property  these  three  years,  I  compromised  with  a  "sen- 
timent and  signature,"  which  Mr.  Secretary  had  the  pleas- 


OUR  HAWAII  33 

ure  of  seeing  Jack  write  on  the  spot,  and  then  departed 
with  seeming  elation. 

We  have  rounded  the  day  with  a  triumphal  if  slow 
swim  to  the  yacht,  and  Jack  struts  with  pride  because  I 
made  it  out  and  back,  and  even  dived  under  the  copper 
keel,  without  assistance  other  than  his  occasional  advice, 
relaxing  body  and  mind  to  float  and  rest  whenever  I  grew 
tired. 

Saturday,  May  25,  1907. 

Observing  those  native  women  (wahines  —  wah-he-nays) 
harvest  crabs  gave  me  an  idea.  Stirring  betimes,  vir- 
tuously I  gathered  a  novel  breakfast  for  my  good  man. 
In  other  words,  I  set  baited  lines  along  the  jetty,  and  was 
soon  easily  netting  the  diminutive  shellfish  that  hurried 
to  the  raw  meat.  Albert  Waterhouse  had  furnished  the 
method  and  the  net,  when  he  and  Mrs.  Albert  dropped  in 
last  evening.  No  hooks  are  used;  the  crab  furnishes  his 
own  hooks,  and,  being  a  creature  of  one  idea,  forgets  to  let 
go  his  juicy  prize  when  the  string  begins  to  pull,  so  that  by 
the  time  he  does  relinquish  hold,  the  net  is  ready  for  his 
squirming  fall.  Although  small,  these  yellowish  gray  red- 
spotted  crabs  are  spicily  worth  the  trouble  of  picking  to 
pieces.  Jack,  however,  does  not  think  any  food  is  worth 
"wasting  that  much  time"  on,  when  he  might  be  using 
one  hand  to  hold  a  book.  But  he  was  quite  enthusiastic 
over  the  plateful  of  picked  tidbits  set  before  him. 

Here  is  a  peculiar  thing :  the  fish  of  Pearl  Lochs  seldom 
bite,  and  must  be  either  netted  or  speared  native  fashion. 
To  be  sure,  there  are  the  ancient  fishponds,  where  it  would 
be  easy  to  use  a  seine;  but  these  ponds  are  closely  pro- 
tected by  their  owners,  and  no  uncertain  penalties  are 
exacted  for  poaching.  There  are  no  privileges  connected 
with  the  long  pond  that  flanks  our  boundary  to  the  north, 
so  we  must  depend  upon  the  unromantic  peddler  for  our 
sea  fruit. 


34  OUR  HAWAII 

No  lingering  could  we  allow  ourselves  at  table  this  morn- 
ing, for  we  were  bound  Honolulu-ward  on  the  forenoon 
train,  to  bring  back  the  horses.  "Wish  I  had  a  million 
dollars,  so  I  could  really  enjoy  life  here,"  yawned  Jack, 
arms  above  head  and  bare  feet  in  the  warm,  wet  grass  (it 
had  rained  heavily  overnight),  as  he  moved  toward  his 
work,  with  a  longing  eye  hammockward  to  unread  maga- 
zines and  files  of  newspapers. 

Always  have  I  remembered,  in  school  days  at  Mills 
College,  where  I  met  and  loved  my  first  Hawaiian  girls,  the 
enthusiasm  of  Mrs.  Susan  L.  Mills  over  the  cross-saddle 
horse  craft  of  women  in  Honolulu,  where  she  and  her  hus- 
band founded  a  school  in  early  days.  So  I  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  ride  my  Australian  saddle  here. 

And  so,  trousered,  divided-skirted,  booted  and  spurred, 
both  of  us  coatless,  as  the  day  promised  to  be  sultry,  we 
walked  to  Tony's  little  dummy-train,  on  which,  with  fellow 
passengers  of  every  yellow  and  brown  nationality  except 
the  Hawaiian,  we  traveled  to  the  very  Japanesque-Ameri- 
canesque  village  of  Pearl  City,  where  the  ten  o'clock 
through-train  picked  us  up.  During  the  half-hour  ride, 
we  enjoyed  the  shining  landscape  of  cane  and  terraced 
rice,  long  rolling  hills,  and  the  alluring  purple  gorges  and 
blue  valleys  of  the  mountains  to  our  left.  The  volcanic 
red  of  the  turned  fields  is  like  ours  in  Sonoma  County,  with 
here  and  there  splashes  of  more  violent  madder  than  any  at 
home. 

I  had  expected  Oahu  to  be  more  tropical  than  this,  palmy 
and  jungly.  But  I  woefully  lacked  information,  and  the 
disappointment  is  nobody's  fault  but  my  own.  Even  the 
coconut  palms  of  Hawaii  are  not  indigenous,  nor  yet  the 
bananas,  breadfruit,  taro,  oranges,  sugar  cane,  mangoes  — 
indeed,  the  fertile  group  does  not  lie  in  the  path  of  seed- 
carrying  birds,  and  it  remained  for  early  native  geniuses 
navigating  their  great  canoes  by  the  stars,  and  white  dis- 
coverers like  Cook  and  Vancouver,  to  introduce  a  large 


OUR  HAWAII  35 

proportion  of  the  trees  and  plants  that  look  like  weeds  to 
the  sympathetic  soil. 

Of  all  imported  trees,  the  algaroba  (keawe  —  kay-ah'vay) 
has  been  the  best  " vegetable  missionary"  to  the  waiting 
territory,  and  flourishes  better  here  than  in  its  own  coun- 
tries, which  seem  to  include  the  West  Indies,  the  southern 
United  States,  and  portions  of  South  America.  One 
writer  fares  farther,  and  claims  that  it  is  the  Al-Korab, 
the  husks  of  which  the  Prodigal  Son  fed  to  the  swine  he 
tended.  The  first  seed  of  the  algaroba  was  brought  to 
Hawaii  from  France  by  Father  Bachelot,  founder  of  the 
Catholic  Mission,  and  was  planted  by  him  in  Honolulu, 
on  Fort  Street,  near  Beretania,  the  inscription  giving  the 
date  as  1837.  But  an  old  journal  of  Brother  Melchoir 
places  the  date  as  early  as  1828.  This  tree  is  still  alive 
and  responsible  for  above  60,000  acres  of  algaroba  growth 
in  Hawaii.  A  busy  tree  these  seventy-odd  years !  Left 
to  itself,  the  algaroba  seems  to  prefer  an  arid  and  stony 
bed,  judging  from  the  manner  in  which  it  has  reclaimed 
and  forested  the  reefy  coast  about  Honolulu,  which 
was  formerly  a  bare  waste.  On  this  island  as  well  as  on 
Molokai  and  Hawaii,  it  has  changed  large  tracts  of 
rocky  desert  into  abundantly  wooded  lands.  The  alga- 
roba shades  the  ground  with  a  dense  brush,  and  attains 
all  heights  up  to  fifty  and  sixty  feet  —  as  these  in  our 
garden,  where  the  boles  have  been  kept  trimmed  and 
show  their  massive  twisted  trunks  and  limbs  in  contrast 
to  their  light  and  feathery  foliage.  The  wood  is  of  splendid 
quality,  and  the  pods  a  most  useful  stock  feed,  while  bees 
love  the  sweet  of  the  blossoms  and  distill  excellent  honey. 
One  of  the  two  kinds  of  gum  exuded  is  used  like  gum  arabic. 
Containing  no  tannin,  it  has  been  used,  dissolved  in  water, 
in  laundries  in  other  countries  than  Hawaii,  where  for  some 
reason  it  is  not  appreciated. 

Speeding  along,  we  noticed  a  number  of  the  exotic  mon- 
key-pod trees.  The  tropical- American  name  is  samang, 


36  OUR  HAWAII 

though  sometimes  it  is  called  the  rain-tree,  from  its  cus- 
tom of  blossoming  at  the  beginning  of  the  rainy  season. 
Broad-spreading,  flat-topped,  with  enormous  trunk,  like 
the  algaroba  it  is  a  member  of  the  acacia  family,  folding 
its  feathery  leaves  at  night.  It  is  wonderfully  ornamental 
for  large  spaces,  but  cannot  be  used  to  shade  streets,  as  its 
quick  growth  plays  ludicrous  havoc  with  sidewalks  and 
gutters.  I  have  read  that  a  common  sight  in  the  Islands 
is  a  noonday  monkey-pod  shade  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  diameter. 

"The  Japanese  city  of  Honolulu!"  burst  from  my  as- 
tonished lips,  once  we  were  out  of  the  station  and  walking 
toward  the  far-famed  fish  market.  For  the  Japanese  are 
in  full  possession  of  block  after  block  of  tenements,  stores, 
and  eating  places  that  fairly  overlap  one  another,  while 
both  men  and  women  go  about  their  business  in  the  na- 
tional garb  of  kimono  and  sandals. 

The  market  was  more  or  less  depleted  of  the  beautiful 
colored  fish  Jack  had  been  so  desirous  for  me  to  see,  and  we 
plan  to  come  back  some  time  in  the  early  morning,  at  which 
time  both  the  fish  and  the  quaint  crowd  are  at  their  best. 

Not  until  in  the  business  center  of  the  city  proper  were 
our  eyes  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  our  own  kind  and  the 
native  Hawaiians  themselves,  although  the  latter  have  be- 
come so  intermixed  with  foreign  strains  that  comparatively 
few  in  Honolulu  can  be  vouched  for  as  pure  bred.  Accord- 
ing to  the  latest  census,  there  are  less  than  30,000  all- 
Hawaiians  in  Hawaii  Nei,  with  nearly  8000  hapa-haoles 
(hah-pah-hah-o-lays  —  quickly,  hah-pah-how-lees) ,  which 
means  half -whites.  The  total  population  of  Honolulu  is 
around  the  40,000  mark,  and  of  these  roughly  10,000  only 
are  white. 

Not  often  do  I  form  expectations  in  a  way  that  lays 
me  open  to  serious  disillusionment.  But  I  had  pic- 
tured Honolulu  differently;  and  the  abrupt  evidence  of 
my  eyes  was  a  trifle  saddening.  The  name  Honolulu  is  said 


OUR   HAWAII  37 

to  mean  "the  sheltered,"  and  it  would  not  inaptly  refer  to 
the  population  of  far-drifted  nationalities  that  shelters  in 
its  sweetly  hospitable  confines. 

Soon,  however,  all  temporary  dash  to  hopes  of  beholding 
a  Hawaiian  city  became  absorbed  in  the  types  that  had 
given  rise  to  disappointment,  and  in  the  unfolding  of  the 
quaint  town  itself,  with  its  bright  shop  windows,  and  side- 
walks where  real,  unmistakably  real,  Hawaiian  wahines 
sat  banked  in  a  riot  of  flowers  for  sale,  themselves  crowned 
with  lets  (lay'ees —  wreaths),  and  offering  others  to  passers. 
Besides,  something  happened  that  awoke  in  me  a  revolu- 
tionizing emotion,  or  concept,  or  whatever  it  may  be  called, 
that  I  had  never  known  of  myself,  nor  been  brought  up  to 
consider.  Born  and  reared  in  the  ultimate  West,  where 
the  Negro  problem  troubleth  not,  the  darky  gardener  (who 
was  half  Cherokee  Indian) ,  to  say  nothing  of  the  vegetable- 
and  wash-Chinamen,  honest  as  the  long  day,  were  my 
childhood  friends,  conspicuously  generous  and  benevolent 
on  Oriental  holidays.  This  emotion,  or  concept,  it  would 
seem  was  born  of  the  instant  need,  as  probably  vital  con- 
cepts are  most  often  brought  into  being.  And  it  shook  me 
to  the  foundations.  Do  not  confuse  this  with  race  hatred. 
My  respect  and  admiration  for  Japan  are  profound.  It  is 
a  different  thing  altogether.  And  this  was  the  way  of  it : 

Mr.  Rowell  and  Jack  were  walking  together,  talking 
busily,  and  I  had  wandered  well  ahead  on  the  narrow  side- 
walk of  a  winding  lane,  where  blossoming  trees  hung  over 
old  walls  and  fences,  and  there  was  barely  room  for  vehicles 
to  pass.  I  was  dreaming  along,  when  suddenly  I  found 
myself  confronted  by  a  bristle-headed,  impudent-eyed 
Japanese  coolie  who  had  stepped  out  from  a  doorway  close 
to  the  pavement.  Even  at  my  leisurely  pace  it  would  have 
been  only  seconds  when  I  should  have  come  up  to  him,  and, 
for  some  of  those  seconds,  it  looked  as  though  he  were 
not  going  to  give  room.  Without  consciously  reasoning  I 
knew  that  I,  a  white  woman,  should  rather  have  died  than 


38  OUR  HAWAII 

step  around  this  coolie  Asiatic.  In  his  own  country  .  .  . 
perhaps ;  in  mine,  or  any  other  than  his,  decidedly  no. 
For  an  instant  I  was  "  seeing  red,"  and  when  I  briefly 
"came  to,"  my  hands  were  fists,  and  I  felt  as  if  the  Jap's 
last-instant  side-step  into  his  doorway  had  saved  me  from 
an  exhibition  of  Jack's  coaching  in  boxing  tactics.  Even 
then  I  came  within  a  wise  ace  of  slapping  the  insolent 
grin  my  furious  side-glance  did  not  miss.  I  can  only  hope 
I  looked  more  pugilistic  than  a  slap. 

This  man,  like  many  others  we  saw  to-day,  is  of  a  totally 
different  breed  from  the  familiar  Japanese  in  the  cities  of 
California — the  refined,  student  house-boys  like  our  Tochigi 
of  the  gentle  voice  and  unfailing  courtesy.  These  coolies  are 
of  bigger,  sturdier  frame  and  coarser  features,  with  a  mas- 
culine, aggressive  expression  in  their  darker-skinned  faces. 
Jack's  practiced  eye  leads  him  to  think  that  a  large  pro- 
portion of  them  is  from  the  rank  and  file  that  served  in  the 
Japanese-Russian  War  three  years  ago.  He  watched  me 
rather  curiously  the  while  I  was  telling  him  the  incident  at 
lunch,  and  I  knew  I  was  flushing  to  the  memory  of  my  racial 
upset,  when  he  said,  "Why,  the  poor  kid !  She's  learning 
the  world!"  But  he  made  no  further  comment.  Neither 
he  nor  Mr.  Rowell  had  observed  the  quiet  happening,  and 
"mad"  though  I  was  at  the  time,  I  cooled  down  almost 
immediately,  and  soon  forgot  everything  in  a  comical  ex- 
perience we  all  three  shared  when  we  tried  to  lunch  in  the 
Alexander  Young  Hotel  —  a  modest  skyscraper  of  gray 
stone,  at  the  top  of  which  a  cafe  is  conducted.  Thither 
we  repaired,  and,  it  being  a  good  half-hour  before  noon 
when  we  stepped  out  of  the  elevator,  a  flaxen-haired  woman 
behind  the  cashier's  desk  was  the  only  person  visible. 

In  lack  of  steward  or  waiter,  Jack  led  the  length  of  the  cool 
room  to  a  table  in  a  window  corner,  where  we  could  look 
over  the  city.  Here  an  angle  in  the  room  brought  us  to 
the  notice  of  a  waiter,  who  lost  no  time  in  whispering  over 
Jack's  white-shirted  shoulder  to  the  effect  that  no  gentle- 


OUR   HAWAII  39 

men  without  coats  were  admitted  to  the  chaste  precincts  of 
the  cafe.  I  was  alert  to  hear  Jack  ask  him  for  the  loan 
of  a  coat,  as  he  had  done  one  sparkling  early  morning  at 
the  Titchfield  in  Port  Antonio,  Jamaica,  when  we  went  for 
breakfast  before  starting  on  a  two-days  horseback  trip 
across  the  mountains  to  Kingston.  Oh,  indeed,  and  Jack 
did  not  fail  to  ask  this  Honolulu  waiter  for  the  coat ;  and 
the  man  was  so  flustered  that  he  compromised  with  his 
own  dignity  by  suggesting  that  he  place  us  at  a  little  less 
conspicuous  table,  some  twenty  feet  nearer  the  elevator. 
We  did  not  exactly  see  how  it  was  less  conspicuous,  and  I 
looked  for  Jack  to  demur  on  principle ;  but  for  once  he  was 
more  interested  in  luncheon  than  quizzing  the  waiter. 
Furthermore,  we  had  a  guest;  and  the  guest  already  had 
raised  Jack's  appetite  for  an  alligator-pear  "cocktail"  — 
a  relish  made  of  the  pear  cut  in  cubes  and  seasoned  in  catsup 
and  lemon  and  salt. 

I  am  sure  the  fair-tressed  cashier  with  her  desk  tele- 
phone was  the  guilty  one,  for  presently,  the  brassy  elevator 
commenced  to  deliver  a  steady  stream  of  Honolulans,  each 
unit  of  which  addressed  her  and  then  followed  her  nod  toward 
our  "less  conspicuous  table."  Jack,  as  an  old  Irish- 
woman once  told  him,  looks  more  like  his  photographs 
than  they  look  like  him,  and  is  often  recognized  by  stran- 
gers who  have  only  seen  his  face  in  the  newspapers ;  so 
there  was  no  taking  of  Mr.  Rowell  by  mistake,  or  of  any 
one  else  in  the  rapidly  filling  tables,  and  I  think  the  manage- 
ment should  be  grateful  for  the  unwonted  early-luncheon 
crowd  Jack  so  innocently  drew.  The  steward,  who  had 
until  now  worn  an  exceedingly  detached  expression,  waxed 
assiduous  in  suggestions  for  a  true  Honolulu  repast.  With 
a  grin  and  a  "what's  the  use  anyway  1"  Jack  let  him  order 
for  us  at  his  own  sweet  will.  I  have  to  thank  him  for  in- 
troducing me  to  guava  ice  cream,  the  deliciously  flavored 
crushed  fruit  staining  the  cream  salmon  pink.  Jack's 
final  comment  about  the  affair  was : 


40  OUR  HAWAII 

"Well,  I  leave  it  to  any  one  if  it  isn't  silly  that  in  a  tropic 
city,  like  Honolulu,  the  conventions  of  altogether  different 
climates  should  make  slaves  of  men !" 

On  the  streets  many  go  about  in  the  ordinary  business 
suits  of  the  mainland;  but  thank  goodness  all  are  not  so 
foolish.  At  least,  thank  goodness  that  we  don't  have  to 
follow  their  example,  but  may  happily  be  counted  with  the 
" white-robed  ones"  who  compose  the  fitting  majority. 

Pasadena  with  all  its  riot  of  roses  is  not  more  beautiful 
than  lovely  Honolulu  glowing  with  wonderful  flowering 
vines  as  well  as  large  trees  that  vie  with  the  vines  in  gor- 
geous abandon  of  bloom.  And  Honolulu  has  her  own  roses 
as  well. 

Inside  Mr.  Rowell's  gate,  I  sat  me  down,  breathless  with 
the  astounding  mantle  of  color  that  lay  over  house  and 
barns  and  fence.  I  had  heard  carelessly  of  the  poinciana 
regia,  and  bougainvillea,  and  golden  shower,  and  was  al- 
ready familiar  with  the  single  red  and  pink  hibiscus,  which 
won  my  affection  in  the  West  Indies.  And  again  we  must 
register  complaint  that  either  the  globe  trotters  we  have 
met  have  short  memories  or  little  care  for  these  things,  for 
we  were  quite  unprepared  for  the  splendor  of  them. 

"  There  ain't  no  such  tree,"  Jack  broke  our  silence  be- 
fore the  poinciana  regia,  the  "  flame  tree,"  and  flamboyante 
of  the  French.  It  was  named  in  honor  ("  Some  honor," 
Jack  observed)  of  Poinci,  Governor  General  of  the  West 
Indies  around  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  who 
wrote  upon  their  natural  history.  I  have  never  seen  any- 
thing so  spectacular  growing  out  of  the  ground.  It  might 
have  been  manufactured  in  Japan  —  like  the  papaia  —  for 
stage  property.  The  smooth  gray  trunk  expands  at  the 
base  into  a  buttress-like  formation  that  corresponds 
to  the  principal  roots,  with  an  effect  on  the  eye  of  an  arti- 
ficial base  broad  enough  to  support  the  gray  pillar  without 
underpinning.  The  tree  grows  flat  topped,  not  unlike  the 


OUR  HAWAII  41 

monkey-pod,  and  the  foliage  of  fine  pinnate  leaves,  superim- 
posed horizontally  layer  upon  layer,  carries  out  the  "made  in 
the  Orient"  fantasy.  But  the  wonder  of  wonders  is  the 
burst  of  flaming  bloom  covering  all  the  green  with  palpitat- 
ing scarlet.  Clearly  red  in  the  flowering  mass,  it  is  another 
marvel  to  examine  the  separate  blossoms,  one  of  which 
covered  the  palm  of  my  hand.  How  can  one  describe  it ! 
In  form  it  was  more  suggestive  of  an  orchid  than  anything 
I  could  think  of,  and  there  were  one  or  two  small,  salmon- 
yellow  petals.  The  petals  were  soft  and  crinkly  as  those 
of  a  Shirley  poppy,  fine  and  delicate  fairy  cr£pe. 

Under  this  colorful  shelter,  Mr.  Rowell  raises  orchids 
for  the  market,  and  I  thought  I  never  could  tear  myself 
from  the  lovely  butterfly  things.  I  was  sorry  I  could  not 
carry  on  horseback  the  ones  freely  proffered. 

In  the  rambling  garden,  one  could  but  turn  from  one 
bursting  wonder  to  another.  The  most  ramshackle  house, 
chicken  coop,  fence,  or  barn  is  glorified  by  the  bougain- 
villea  vine,  named  after  the  early  French  navigator.  In 
color  a  bright  yet  soft  brick-red,  or  terra  cotta,  like  old 
Spanish  tiling,  it  flows  over  everything  it  touches,  sending 
out  showers  and  rockets  that  softly  pile  in  masses  on  roof 
and  arbor.  Close  to  the  flowers,  I  discovered  they  were  not 
exactly  flowers,  these  painted  petals,  but  more  on  the  order 
of  leaves,  or  half -formed  petals.  It  is  the  bracts  themselves, 
which  surround  the  inconspicuous  blossoms,  that  hold 
the  color  —  as  with  the  poinsettia.  We  had  already 
noticed,  in  other  gardens,  great  masses  of  magenta 
vine,  which  Mr.  Rowell  told  us  is  also  bougainvillea, 
and  is  of  two  varieties,  one  a  steady  bloomer,  season 
upon  season.  There  are  other  colors,  too  —  salmon-pink, 
orange,  and  scarlet.  And  speaking  of  the  poinsettia,  which, 
even  in  California,  we  cherish  in  pots,  here  in  magical 
Hawaii  it  grows  out  of  doors,  sometimes  to  a  height  of 
fifteen  or  twenty  feet  —  as  do  begonias  on  some  of  the 
islands ;  but  I,  for  one,  want  to  see  to  believe. 


42  OUR  HAWAII 

We  are  willing  to  accept  anything  about  the  guava,  be 
it  tree  or  shrub,  and  it  is  both  in  this  sunset  land,  for  to-day 
we  feasted  on  its  yellow  globes  —  dozens  of  them.  Ripe, 
they  were  better  far  than  the  ice  cream,  with  soft  edible 
rind  inclosing  a  heart  of  pulpy  seeds  crushed-strawberry  in 
tint,  which,  oddly  enough,  taste  not  unlike  strawberries  — 
stewed  strawberries  with  a  dash  of  lemon.  Before  I  realize 
it,  I  am  breaking  that  vow  not  to  try  describing  flavors. 

At  length  we  must  tear  rudely  from  this  Edenic  inclosure, 
and  saddle  the  little  bay  mares.  It  was  good  to  feel  the 
creaking  leather  and  the  eager  pull  on  bits,  although  in 
the  case  of  Jack's  mount,  Koali  (Morning  Glory),  that 
eager  pull  was  all  in  a  retrograde  direction  when  we  at- 
tempted to  leave  town.  City  limits  were  good  enough  for 
the  Morning  Glory,  and  her  rider  had  a  perilous  time  on  the 
slippery  quadruped,  who  had  evidently  been  not  too  well 
broken.  My  heart  was  in  my  mouth  at  her  narrow  escapes 
from  electric  cars,  and  from  sliding  sprawls  on  wet  tracks. 
Finally  she  capitulated,  and  all  went  smoothly  once  we 
struck  the  fine  stretch  of  road  to  the  peninsula,  which  leads 
through  the  famous  Damon  gardens,  that  are  like  an  en- 
chanted wood.  This  is  the  way  to  travel,  intimately  in 
touch  with  the  lovely  land  and  sea  and  sky,  without  having 
to  crane  our  necks  out  of  car  windows  or  after  vanishing 
views  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  coach.  For  the  most  part 
we  went  leisurely,  as  the  horses  were  soft,  and  found  it  very 
warm,  with  that  heavy,  moist,  perfumed  air  that  more  than 
all  the  scenery  makes  one  feel  the  strangeness  of  a  new 
country.  Tall  sugar  cane  rustled  in  the  late  fan  of  wind, 
and  a  sudden  brief  shower,  warm  as  milk,  wet  our  coatless 
shoulders.  Little  fear  of  catching  cold  from  a  drenching 
in  this  climate  where  it  is  always  summer. 

The  owner  of  the  mares  assures  us  that  all  they  need  be 
fed  is  the  sorghum  that  grows  outside  our  fence  along  the 
roadway,  balanced  by  a  measure  of  grain  twice  daily.  We 
are  also  at  liberty  to  pasture  them  in  a  handy  vacant  lot, 


OUR   HAWAII  43 

and  Tochigi  will  feed  the  grain  which  he  has  stored  in  the 
tiny  servant  house  where  he  sleeps. 

"  They  're  used  to  outdoors  day  and  night,  so  the  sky  is 
sufficient  stable  roof,"  Mr.  Rowell  praised  the  climate. 
And  so  our  possession  of  the  horses  is  all  pleasure  and  slight 
responsibility. 

Little  as  I  really  saw  of  Honolulu  on  this  flying  trip, 
enough  it  was  to  fill  my  head  to  overflowing  with  pictures ; 
while  that  resplendent  garden  of  flamboyante  and  bougain- 
villea  and  orchids  and  golden  guavas  stays  with  me  like  a 
dream. 

PEARL  HARBOR,  Tuesday,  May  28,  1907. 

One  old-time  sojourner  on  this  coral  strand  fitly  wrote : 
"When  all  days  are  alike,  there  is  no  reason  for  doing  a 
thing  to-day  rather  than  to-morrow."  Whether  or  not  he 
lived  up  to  his  wise  conclusion  I  do  not  know;  but  the 
average  hustling  white-skin,  filled  with  unreasonable  am- 
bition to  visit  other  shores,  does  not  live  up,  or  down,  to 
any  such  maxim.  Maybe  it  is  a  mistake ;  maybe  we 
should  pay  more  heed  to  the  lure  of  dolce  far  niente.  Even 
so,  for  us  it  is  not  expedient  and  we  may  as  well  put  it  by. 
Jack  does  not  regard  it  seriously,  anyway.  His  deep- 
chested  vitality  and  personal  optimism,  together  with  his 
gift  of  the  gods,  sleep  under  any  and  all  conditions,  if  he 
but  will  to  sleep,  quite  naturally  render  him  intolerant  of 
coddling  himself  in  any  climate  under  the  sun,  no  matter 
how  inimical  to  his  super  sensitive  white  skin.  And  I 
decline  to  worry.  It  is  so  easy  to  acquire  the  habit  of 
worrying  about  one's  nearest  and  dearest,  to  the  ruin  of  all 
balance  of  true  values.  Nothing  annoys  and  antagonizes 
Jack  so  much  as  inquiries  about  his  feelings  when  he  him- 
self has  not  given  them  a  thought.  Time  enough  when 
the  thing  happens,  is  his  practice,  if  not  his  theory;  but 
in  justice  I  must  say  that  he  applies  this  unpreparedness 


44  OUR   HAWAII 

only  to  himself,  and  has  ever  a  shrewd  and  scientific  eye  for 
the  welfare  of  those  dependent  upon  him,  although  never 
will  he  permit  himself  to  "nag."  "I'm  telling  you,  my 
dear,"  once,  twice,  possibly  thrice — and  there's  an  end  on't. 

Everything  is  freshening  in  the  cool  trade  wind  that  is 
commencing  to  wave  the  live-palm-leaf  fans,  and  on  the 
slate-blue  horizon  soft  masses  of  low  trade  wind  clouds  pile 
and  puff  and  promise  refreshment  —  "wool-packs,"  sailors 
call  them,  which  "listens  rather  too  warm,"  as  Albert 
Waterhouse  would  say.  The  past  few  days  of  variable 
weather  have  roasted  us  one  minute,  and  steamed  us  the 
next  when  the  un-cooling  rains  descended.  But  it  is  all 
in  the  tropic  pattern,  and  it  is  nice  never  to  require  any- 
thing heavier  than  summer  "pretties,"  as  Jack  loves  to 
name  them. 

"Now,  don't  stint  yourself,  whatever  you  do,  Mate,"  he 
urged  this  morning,  half -apprehensive  lest  I  do  so  in  face 
of  the  "Iron  Heel"  disaster.  "Get  a  lot  of  things  — lots 
of  those  loose  ruffly  things  —  and  some  evening  dresses. 
You'll  need  evening  things  when  we  go  up  to  stay  in  Hono- 
lulu." 

"Hello,  Twin  Brother !"  he  greeted  me  yesterday,  when, 
booted  and  trousered,  I  was  bridling  Lehua.  "I  wish  you 
didn't  have  to  put  on  the  skirt,  you  look  so  eminently 
smart  and  appropriate !" 

"Be  patient,"  I  told  him.  "  We'll  all  be  riding  this  way 
in  a  few  years,  see  if  we  aren't.  You  wait." 

But  the  cheery  prophecy  of  public  good  sense  could  not 
stifle  a  sigh  as  I  blotted  out  the  natty  boyish  togs  with  the 
long,  hot  black  skirt.  What  a  silliness  to  put  the  "weaker 
sex"  to  such  disadvantages  —  as  if  we  did  not  manifest  our 
bonny  brawn  by  surviving  to  fight  them  1 

To  the  village  we  galloped  to  have  Koali  and  Lehua  shod 
at  the  blacksmith's,  and  odd  enough  it  was  to  see  a  Jap- 
anese working  on  their  hoofs,  for  somehow  one  does  not 
readily  associate  the  thought  of  horses  with  the  Japanese. 


OUR   HAWAII  45 

This  one  did  a  fair  piece  of  work,  however.  But  for  a 
succession  of  violent  downpours,  we  should  have  taken  a 
long  ride.  There  is  inexpressible  glory  in  this  broken 
weather;  one  minute  you  move  in  a  blue  gloom  under  a 
low-hanging  sky,  and  the  next,  all  brilliance  of  heaven 
bursts  through,  gilding  and  bejeweling  the  vivid-green 
world. 

This  date  marks  a  vital  readjustment  in  ship  matters. 
Two  of  the  Snark's  complement  are  to  return  to  the  main- 
land, and  Jack  has  cabled  to  Gene  to  come  down  by  first 
steamer  and  take  hold  of  the  engines.  Not  to  mention 
many  other  details  of  incomprehensible  neglect  aboard  by 
the  undisciplinary  sailing  master,  the  costly  sails  have  been 
left  to  mildew  in  their  tight  canvas  covers  on  the  booms  in 
all  this  damp  weather,  with  deck  awnings  stretched  under 
the  booms  instead  of  protectingly  above.  And  no  bucket 
of  water  has  been  sluiced  over  the  deck  since  our  arrival 
eight  days  ago,  necessitating  the  not  inconsiderable  ex- 
pense of  recalking  thus  early  in  the  voyage.  The  appear- 
ance of  the  deck  can  be  guessed;  and  otherwise  no  effort 
has  been  put  forth  to  bring  the  yacht  into  presentable 
order,  nor  any  interest  nor  headwork  displayed  in  for- 
warding repairs.  If  a  salaried  master  will  let  his  valuable 
charge  lapse,  there  is  no  cure  but  to  get  one  who  will  not. 
As  for  the  machinery,  Gene  had  begged  for  a  chance  to  sail 
as  engineer,  and  now  that  Bert  has  concluded  that,  after  all, 
adventure  is  not  what  he  wanted,  Gene  shall  be  given 
opportunity  to  show  what  he  knows  about  gasoline. 

Last  Sunday  we  lunched  with  the  Waterhouses  and 
their  rollicking  week-end  crowd  from  town,  who  showed 
what  they  thought  of  conventional  restrictions  in  tropic 
cities,  by  spending  the  day  in  light  raiment  and  bare  feet, 
resting  or  romping  over  house  and  grounds.  Mrs. 
Gretchen's  German  papa,  Mr.  Kopke,  who  is  superin- 
tendent of  the  Honolulu  Iron  Works,  was  also  there,  and 
came  back  with  us  to  take  a  personal  look-see  at  our 


46  OUR  HAWAII 

wrecked  engine.  To-day  he  made  a  special  trip  from  the 
city,  bringing  an  engineer,  and  the  upshot  was  a  more 
encouraging  report  than  Mr.  Kopke  had  deemed  possible 
from  his  first  inspection.  " Anyway,"  he  cheered  our 
dubiousness,  "  you're  a  whole  lot  better  off  than  the  little 
yacht  that  piled  ashore  on  the  reef  outside  yonder  this 
morning."  They  decided  that  the  repairing  can  be  done 
aboard  the  Snark  here  at  Pearl  Harbor,  instead  of  our 
suffering  the  nuisance  of  taking  her  to  Honolulu,  and  cur- 
tailing our  time  in  this  green  refuge. 

So  Jack's  face,  that  had  been  fairly  downcast  for  two 
or  three  days,  cleared  like  an  Oahu  sky  after  a  thunder- 
shower;  and  later  he  said  to  me,  with  a  familiar  little 
apologetic  smile : 

"Mate  Woman,  you  mustn't  mind  my  getting  a  little 
blue  sometimes.  I  can't  help  it.  When  a  fellow  does 
his  damndest  to  be  square  with  everybody,  buys  every- 
thing of  the  best  in  the  market  and  makes  no  kick  about 
paying  for  it,  and  then  gets  thrown  down  the  way  I've 
been  thrown  down  with  the  whole  building  and  running 
of  this  boat,  from  start  to  finish  —  why,  it's  enough  to 
make  him  bite  his  veins  and  howl.  A  man  picks  out  a 
clean  wholesome  way  of  making  and  spending  his  money, 
and  every  goldarned  soul  jumps  him.  If  I  went  in  for 
race  horses  and  chorus  girls  and  big  red  automobiles, 
there'd  be  no  end  of  indulgent  comment.  But  here  I  take 
my  own  wife  and  start  out  on  good  clean  adventure.  .  .  . 
Oh,  Lord !  Lord !  What's  a  fellow  to  think !  .  .  .  Only, 
don't  you  mind  if  I  get  the  blues  once  in  a  while.  I  don't 
very  often.  —  And  don't  think  I'm  not  appreciating  your 
own  cheerfulness.  I  don't  miss  a  bit  of  it,  my  dear,  and 
I  love  you  to  death  for  it.  —  And  you  and  I  are  what 
count ;  and  we'll  live  our  life  in  spite  of  them !  " 

Other  persons  have  their  troubles,  too.  Bert,  for  in- 
stance, who  is  the  recipient  of  much  gratuitous  sympathy 


OUR  HAWAII  47 

from  all  hands.  He  does  not  think  the  occasion  at  all 
funny,  and  one  can  hardly  blame  him.  With  blood  in 
his  eye,  he  is  looking  for  a  certain  reporter  on  one  of  the 
local  sheets.  The  reporter  had  happened  upon  the  fact 
that  Bert's  father,  who  years  ago  was  a  sheriff  on  Kauai, 
the  "  Garden  Island,"  was  shot  and  killed  by  a  native 
leper,  a  wild  free  spirit  of  his  race  who  fled  to  the  mountain 
fastnesses  to  escape  deportation  to  the  settlement  on 
Molokai.  It  was  a  tragic  episode,  heaven  knows ;  but 
the  bright  young  reporter,  who  cannot  have  been  long  in 
the  Islands,  rendered  Bert's  situation  quite  desperate 
by  airily  stating  that  Bert  was  the  son  of  the  famous 
leper  of  Kauai ! 

Again  referring  to  that  beloved  scrap  heap,  the  Snark, 
there's  a  comedian  in  our  own  small  tragedy,  although  he 
doesn't  know  it.  His  sweet  and  liquid  name  is  Schwank, 
assumably  Teutonic,  and,  with  hands  eloquent  of  by-gone 
belaying  pins,  "  every  ringer  a  fishhook,  every  hair  a  rope 
yarn,"  he  tinkers  about  the  boat  in  the  capacity  of  car- 
penter. With  his  large  family,  he  lives  on  the  other  side 
of  the  peninsula,  and  bids  fair  to  be  a  great  diversion  to 
us  all.  Belike  he  has  of  old  been  a  sad  swashbuckler,  for 
he  hints  at  dark  deeds  on  the  high  seas,  of  castaways  and 
stowaways,  of  smuggled  opium  and  other  forbidden  sweets ; 
and  he  gloats  over  memories  of  gleaming  handfuls  of  pearls 
exchanged  for  handfuls  of  sugar  in  the  goodly  yesteryears. 
Why  did  he  not  make  it  pailfuls  of  pearls  while  he  was  on 
the  subject?  In  my  own  dreams  of  pearl-gathering  in 
the  Paumotus  and  Torres  Straits  far  to  the  southwest,  I 
never  allow  myself  to  think  in  less  measure  than  a  lapful. 
But  pondering  upon  this  theatrical  old  pirate's  vaunted 
exchange,  I  cannot  help  wishing  I  had  been  a  sugar  planter, 
for  I  care  more  for  pearls  than  for  sugar. 

Late  this  afternoon  we  took  out  the  horses  for  a  few 
red  miles  over  the  roads  of  Honolulu  Plantation.  The  rich, 


48  OUR  HAWAII 

rolling  country  recalled  rides  in  Iowa,  its  high  green  cane, 
over  our  heads,  rustling  and  waving  like  corn  of  the  Middle 
West.  And  everywhere  we  turned  were  the  stout  and 
gnarly  Japanese  laborers,  women  as  well  as  men.  Female 
field  laborers  may  be  picturesque  in  some  lands ;  but  I 
am  blest  if  these  tiny  Japanese  women,  with  their  squat, 
misshapen  bodies  and  awful  bandy  legs,  and  blank,  sex- 
less faces,  look  well  in  ours.  Their  heads  are  bound  in 
white  cloth,  while  atop,  fitting  as  well  as  Happy  Hooligan's 
crown,  sit  small  sun-hats  of  coarse  straw.  From  under 
bent  backs  men  and  women  alike  lowered  at  us  with  their 
slant,  inscrutable  eyes.  Tony,  who  claims  a  smattering 
of  their  language,  tells  us :  "I  think  Americans  no  lika-da 
talk  those  Japanese  I  hear  on  my  train  and  Pearl  City." 
And  there  are  56,000  of  them  by  now  in  this  cove  table 
Territory  —  prolific,  and  averse  to  intermarrying  with 
any  of  the  many  other  adopted  bloods  in  Hawaii. 

Sunday  night,  after  Mr.  Kopke  left,  we  went  up  by  train 
to  Honolulu,  to  fulfill  a  dinner  engagement  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Charles  L.  Rhodes,  to  whom  we  had  been  introduced 
in  the  lobby  of  the  Alexander  Young  the  day  of  our  "  con- 
spicuous" luncheon  upstairs.  Mr.  Rhodes  is  editor  of 
the  evening  paper,  The  Star,  and  Mr.  Walter  GifTord 
Smith,  editor  of  the  Pacific  Commercial  Advertiser,  whom 
Jack  had  met  here  in  1904,  was  also  a  guest.  The  others 
were  Brigadier- General  John  H.  Soper  and  his  family. 
General  Soper  is  the  first  officer  ever  honored  by  the 
Hawaiian  Government  —  by  any  one  of  the  successive 
Hawaiian  Governments  —  with  the  rank  and  commission 
of  General.  He  had  been  in  charge  of  the  police  during 
the  unsettled  days  of  the  Revolution,  and  later  on  was 
made  Marshal  of  the  Republic  of  Hawaii,  in  effect  pre- 
vious to  her  annexation  by  the  United  States. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rhodes  live  in  a  roomy,  vine-clambered 
cottage,  set  in  a  rosy  lane  tucked  away  behind  an  avenue 


OUR  HAWAII  49 

clanking  with  open  electric  cars;  such  a  pretty  lane,  a 
garden  in  itself,  closed  at  one  end,  where  a  magnificent 
bougainvillea  flaunts  magenta  banners,  and  a  slanting 
coconut  palm  traces  its  deep  green  frondage  against  the 
sky. 

This  was  a  most  pleasant  glimpse  into  a  Honolulu  home, 
and  our  new  friends  further  invited  us  to  go  with  them  to 
a  reception  Wednesday  evening.  Now,  be  it  known  that 
neither  of  us  is  overfond  of  public  receptions;  but  this 
one  is  irresistible,  for  Prince  Jonah  Kuhio  Kalamanaole  and 
his  royal  wife  are  to  receive  in  state,  in  their  own  home, 
with  the  Congressional  party  now  visiting  the  Islands 
from  Washington,  on  the  Reception  Committee.  Also, 
there  is  a  possibility  that  Her  Majesty,  Liliuokalani,  the 
last  crowned  head  of  the  fallen  monarchy,  may  be  there. 
In  these  territorial  times  of  Hawaii,  such  a  gathering  may 
not  occur  again,  and  it  is  none  too  early  for  us  to  be  glad 
of  a  chance  to  glimpse  something  of  what  remains  of  the 
incomparably  romantic  monarchy  that  died  so  courageously. 

Wednesday,  May  29,  1907. 

Heigh-O,  palm-trees  and  grasses !  This  is  a  t  lovely 
world  altogether,  and  we  are  most  very  glad  to  be  in  it. 
But  it  has  its  small  drawbacks,  say  when  the  honored 
Chief  Executive  of  one's  own  United  States  of  America 
makes  an  error  quite  out  of  keeping  with  his  august  su- 
periority. This  placid  gray-and-gold  morning,  arriving 
by  first  train  from  town,  and  before  we  had  risen  from  our 
post-breakfast  feast  of  books  at  the  jolly  little  out-door 
table,  a  perfectly  nice  and  affable  young  man,  whose  un- 
settled fortune  —  or  misfortune  —  it  is  to  be  a  newspaper 
reporter,  invaded  our  vernal  privacy.  In  his  hand  no 
scrip  he  bore,  but  a  copy  of  Everybody's  Magazine,  portly 
with  advertising  matter,  his  finger  inserted  at  an  article 
by  Theodore  Roosevelt  on  the  subject  of  "  nature-fakers." 


50  OUR  HAWAII 

In  this  more  or  less  just  diatribe,  poor  Jack  London  is 
haled  forth  and  flayed  before  a  deceived  reading  public 
as  one  of  several  pernicious  writers  who  should  be  re- 
strained from  misleading  the  adolescent  of  America  with 
incorrect  representation  of  animal  life  and  psychology. 
An  incident  in  Jack's  "  White  Fang,"  published  last  fall, 
companion  novel  to  "The  Call  of  the  Wild,"  is  selected 
for  damning  illustration  of  the  author's  infidelity  to  na- 
ture. Our  Teddy,  oracle  and  idol  of  adventurous  youth, 
declares  with  characteristic  emphasis  that  no  lynx  could 
whip  a  wolf-dog  as  Jack's  lynx  whipped  Kiche,  the  wolf- 
dog.  But  the  joke  is  on  the  President  this  time,  as  any 
one  can  see  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  look  up  the  de- 
scription in  "White  Fang."  And  lest  you  have  no  copy 
convenient,  let  me  explain  that  Jack  never  said  the  lynx 
whipped  the  wolf-dog.  Quite  to  the  contrary  — 

"Why,  look  here,"  he  laughed,  running  his  eye  rapidly 
down  the  magazine  column,  "he  says  that  the  lynx  in 
my  story  killed  the  wolf-dog.  It  did  nothing  of  the  kind. 
That  doesn't  show  that  Mr.  Roosevelt  is  as  careful  an 
observer  as  Everybody's  would  have  us  believe.  My  story 
is  about  the  wolf-dog  killing  the  lynx  —  and  eating  it !" 

"I  hope  he'll  get  it  straight,"  he  mused  after  the  depart- 
ing form  of  the  reporter  with  a  "good  story."  "I  can  see 
myself  writing  an  answer  to  Mr.  Roosevelt  later  on,  in 
some  magazine." 

Jack's  hope  that  his  response  to  the  charge  of  "nature- 
faking"  would  be  honestly  reported,  was  a  reflex  to  the 
relentless  treatment  he  has  suffered  from  the  press  of  the 
Pacific  Coast.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  newspaper  pro- 
prietors from  the  Canadian  to  the  Mexican  borders  had 
filed  standing  orders  to  give  him  the  worst  of  it  wherever 
easiest  to  do  so,  and  to  go  out  of  the  way  to  do  so  when- 
ever possible.  This  is  undoubtedly  due  to  the  menace  of 
his  socialistic  utterances ;  but  what  a  distorted  civilization 
it  is  that  makes  a  man,  who  has  unaided  fought  his  way 


OUR  HAWAII  51 

up  from  nether  levels  of  circumstance,  pay  so  bitterly  for 
his  stark  humanitarian  politics.  "Lots  of  the  newspaper 
men  do  not  dislike  me,  and  like  my  work,  I  know ;  and  I 
hate  to  see  them  have  to  sacrifice  their  own  convictions 
and  consciences  to  the  policies  of  their  employers  —  or 
starve.  And  reporters,  in  common  with  the  general  run 
of  men,  don't  like  to  starve." 

What  did  he  himself  do  when  he  was  a  newspaper  man  ? 
The  answer  is,  that  even  when  he  was  nearly  starving, 
he  held  himself  back  from  the  temptation  to  do  any  work 
for  the  dailies  except  very  occasional,  special,  signed  articles. 
I  look  for  him  to  begin,  at  the  first  favorable  moment, 
a  novel  that  will  be  very  autobiographical  of  his  struggles 
to  gain  recognition.  He  has  often  spoken  of  his  desire  to 
do  this. 

The  newspapers  of  Honolulu,  this  Farthest  West  of 
his  own  country,  have  shown  toward  him  no  influence  of 
the  unkindness  of  his  natal  State,  but  have  been  all  that 
is  hospitable,  and  this  in  face  of  the  rebuff  put  upon  their 
city  when  we  sailed  calmly  by  to  the  suburbs.  From 
various  sources  again  we  hear  of  the  welcomes  that  were 
waiting  along  the  wharves,  the  garlands  that  were  woven 
for  our  necks. 

It  must  be  forgiven  that  I  jump  from  theme  to  theme 
in  more  or  less  distracted  manner;  for  if  the  way  of  my 
life  is  one  of  swift  adjustments,  so  must  be  the  honest  way 
of  my  chronicle.  And  so,  from  Presidents,  and  reporters, 
wolf-dogs,  and  politics,  lynxes,  and  ethics,  and  histories  of 
author-husbands,  I  shift  to  fripperies,  and  gala  gardens, 
and  Polynesian  princes. 

My  party-gown  (not  a  new  one,  for  thus  far  I  have  not 
obeyed  the  gentle  mandate  to  "buy  lots  of  them")  hangs 
on  a  line  across  a  corner  of  the  big  room,  faultlessly  pressed 
by  the  aesthetic  Tochigi,  with  yards  and  yards  of  Spanish 
lace,  souvenir  of  Santiago  de  Cuba,  about  the  shoulders, 
arranged  with  unerring  taste  by  fair  Gretchen.  It  is 


52  OUR  HAWAII 

always  a  pleasure  to  hear  her  benevolent  "How  are  you 
people?"  and  Albert's  cheery  "Zing!"  at  the  red  gate. 
Often  he  and  the  Madonna  stroll  over  in  the  dusk,  in 
their  hands  slender  red-glowing  punks  to  ward  off  mos- 
quitoes—  the  "undesirable  immigrants"  that  have  in- 
fested Hawaii's  balmy  nights  these  eighty  years,  ever 
since  the  ship  Wellington,  last  from  San  Bias,  Mexico, 
unwittingly  discharged  them  in  her  otherwise  empty 
water  barrels  at  Lahaina,  on  Maui.  It  was  a  sad  exchange 
for  unpolluted  drinking  water.  Fortunately  the  days  are 
free  of  the  pests;  but  woe  to  the  malihini  who  kens 
not  deftly  how  to  tuck  his  bobinet  under  the  edges  of  his 
mattress. 

The  enchantment  of  our  lovely  acre  and  the  novel  way 
of  living,  it  would  seem,  are  being  challenged  by  the  varying 
temptations  of  the  Capital.  To-night  we  attend  the  re- 
ception, and  to-morrow  ride  to  Waikiki  to  spend  a  few 
days  on  the  Beach. 

PEARL  HARBOR,  Thursday,  May  30,  1907. 

Jack  preceded  me  into  town  to  keep  a  business  engage- 
ment with  the  Iron  Works  people,  who  are  taking  the 
kindest  interest  in  Snark  repairs. 

I  took  the  five  o'clock  train  to  Honolulu,  where  Jack 
met  me,  and  we  drove  in  a  funny  little  one-horse  carriage 
to  the  Royal  Hawaiian  Hotel  for  dinner.  Ever  since 
Jack's  letters  to  me  from  Hawaii  three  years  ago,  I  have 
longed  to  see  this  noted  tropic  hostelry  with  its  white 
tiers  of  balconies  and  its  Hawaiian  orchestra,  and  the 
red  and  green  lights  which  its  foreign  guests  execrate  and 
adore.  Last  evening,  however,  the  hotel  was  quiet  —  no 
music,  no  colored  lights,  no  crowd.  But  the  gardens  were 
there,  and  the  fairy  balconies,  on  the  lowest  of  which  we 
dined  most  excellently,  with  an  unforeseen  guest.  Before 
the  "American-plan"  dinner  hour,  we  were  sitting  in  a 


OUR  HAWAII  53 

cool  corner  talking  of  our  visit  to  the  Beach,  when  a  bearded 
young  man  stepped  briskly  up,  with : 

"  You're  Jack  London,  aren't  you  ?  —  My  name  is 
Ford." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Jack  returned,  quickly  on  his  feet.  —Al- 
exander Hume  Ford.  I  heard  you  were  in  Honolulu, 
and  have  wanted  to  see  you.  I've  read  lots  of  your  stuff 

-  and  all  of  your  dandy  articles  in  The  Century." 

Mr.  Ford  could  hardly  spare  time  to  look  his  pleasure, 
nor  to  be  introduced  to  me,  before  rushing  on,  in  a  breath- 
less way  that  made  one  wonder  what  was  the  hurry : 

"Now  look  here,  London,"  in  a  confidential  undertone. 
"I've  got  a  lot  of  whacking  good  material  —  for  stories, 
you  understand.  I  can't  write  stories  —  there's  no  use 
my  trying.  My  fiction  is  rot  —  rot,  I  tell  you.  I  can 
write  travel  stuff  of  sorts,  but  it  takes  no  artist  to  do  that. 
You  can  write  stories  —  the  greatest  stories  in  the  world 

-  and  I'll  tell  you  what :  I'll  jot  down  some  of  the  things 
I've  got  hold  of  here  and  everywhere,  and  you're  welcome 
to  them.  .  .  .     What  d'you  say?" 

Jack  suggested  that  he  make  three  at  our  table,  and 
he  talked  a  steady  stream  all  through  — of  information 
about  everything  under  the  sky,  it  would  seem,  for  he 
has  traveled  widely.  At  present  he  is  interested  in  re- 
viving the  old  Hawaiian  sport  of  surf-boarding  on  the 
breakers,  and  promised  to  see  us  at  Waikiki  later  on,  and 
show  us  how  to  use  a  board.  When  he  left,  we  were  able 
to  draw  the  first  long  breath  in  two  hours.  In  his  at- 
mosphere one  had  the  sense  of  being  speeded  up;  but  his 
generous  good  nature  was  worth  it. 

On  the  electric  car  bound  for  Waikiki,  we  found  our- 
selves part  of  a  holiday  crowd  that  sat  and  stood,  or  hung  on 
the  running-boards  —  a  crowd  that  convinced  me  Honolulu 
was  Honolulu  after  all.  The  passengers  on  the  running- 
boards  made  merry  way  for  the  haole  wahine,  while  a 
beaming  Hawaiian,  a  gentleman  if  ever  was  one,  gave  me 


54  OUR   HAWAII 

his  seat,  raising  a  garlanded  hat.  The  people  made  a  kalei- 
doscope of  color  —  white  women  in  evening  gowns  and 
fluffy  wraps,  laughing  Hawaiian  and  hapahaole  girls  in 
gaudy  holokus  and  woolly  crocheted  "  fascinators,"  the 
native  men  sporting  brilliant  leis  of  fresh  flowers,  the 
most  characteristic  being  the  ilima,  which,  strung  on 
thread,  forms  an  orange-colored  inch-rope  greatly  affected 
for  neck  garlands  and  hat  bands.  Like  ourselves,  they 
were  all  making  for  the  gardens  of  their  Prince. 

Some  three  miles  from  the  center  of  town,  we  alighted 
at  the  big  white  Moana  Hotel,  where,  in  a  lofty  seaward 
lanai,  overlooking  a  palmy  carriage  court,  with  her  hus- 
band waited  Mrs.  Rhodes  —  a  picture  in  the  subdued 
light,  her  gown  of  soft  white  cloaked  with  a  Chinese  man- 
darin mantle  of  rose  and  green  and  gold.  A  caressing 
manner,  and  her  gift  of  making  one  feel  pleased  with  one- 
self, all  went  to  perfect  our  first  hour  at  Waikiki,  spent  in 
sipping  from  cool  glasses  while  we  rested  in  large  rattan 
chairs,  for  none  but  a  malihini  moves  quickly  here.  Lovely 
indeed  was  this  first  glimpse  of  Hawaii's  celebrated  water- 
ing place,  as  we  lounged  in  the  liquid  night-breeze  from 
over  rolling  star-tipped  waters  that  broke  in  long  white 
lines  on  the  dim  crescent  beach. 

Strolling  across  broad  Kalakaua  Avenue,  we  entered  a 
park  where  great  looming  trees  were  festooned  high  and 
low  with  colored  lights  —  Prince  Cupid's  private  gardens 
thrown  wide  to  his  own  people  as  well  as  to  his  foreign 
guests.  A  prodigious  buzz  and  hum  came  from  over  by 
a  lighted  building,  and  we  stepped  across  the  lawns  to  the 
measure  of  a  fanfare  of  martial  music  from  Berger's  Royal 
Hawaiian  Band.  From  an  immense  open  tent  where  many 
were  sitting  at  little  tables,  the  lilting  of  a  Hawaiian 
orchestra  of  guitars  and  ukuleles  (oo-koo-lay'lees)  blended 
into  the  general  festive  din;  and  then,  threading  purely 
the  medley  of  sound,  was  heard  a  woman's  voice  that 
was  like  a  violin,  rising  high  and  higher,  dominating  the 


OUR   HAWAII  55 

throng  until  it  lapsed  into  absolute  silence.  It  was  the 
sweetest  of  Hawaiian  singers,  the  famous  Madame  Alapai, 
and  a  prodigious  gale  of  applause  went  up  from  all  over 
the  grounds  when  she  had  finished,  ceasing  instantly  at  the 
first  crystal  tone  of  her  willing  encore. 

Like  a  child  at  a  fair,  I  had  no  attention  for  the  way  of 
my  feet  in  the  grass,  and  Jack  laughed  paternally  at  my 
absorption  as  he  piloted  me  by  the  elbow,  with  a  "Dear 
Kid  —  it's  a  pleasure  to  take  you  anywhere,  you  do  have 
such  a  good  time !" 

A  pretty  Hawaiian  maid  at  the  dressing-tent  greeted 
us  haole  wahines  with  a  smiling  "Aloha,"  and  led  to  where 
we  could  shed  wraps,  and  dust  noses  and  pat  coiffures ; 
after  which  the  four  of  us  picked  a  way  through  the  com- 
pany of  women,  lovely  in  their  trailing  gowns,  and  men  in 
black  and  white  evening  attire  or  glittering  army  and  navy 
uniforms,  while  all  around  under  the  trees  in  the  back- 
ground hundreds  of  Hawaiians  looked  on,  their  dusky 
faces  and  beautiful  eyes  eloquent  with  curiosity  and 
interest.  Up  a  green  terrace  we  paced,  to  the  broad 
encircling  lanai  of  what  looked  to  be  an  immense  grass 
house.  And  grass  house  it  proved,  in  which  the  royal 
owners  dwelt  before  the  building  of  the  more  modern 
mansion. 

This  particular  entertainment,  including  as  it  did  the 
Congressional  party,  was  unique  in  its  significance.  To 
the  right  of  the  receiving  line  stood  the  delegate,  Prince 
Jonah  Kuhio  Kalanianaole,  affectionately  called  Prince 
Cupid,  a  well-known  figure  in  Washington,  D.  C.,  a  dark, 
well-featured,  medium-sized  man  in  evening  dress,  hand- 
some enough,  but  in  my  eyes  quite  eclipsed  by  the  gorgeous 
creature  at  his  side,  pure  Hawaiian  like  himself,  his  wife,  the 
Princess  Elizabeth.  The  bigness  of  her  was  a  trifle  over- 
whelming to  one  new  to  the  physical  aristocracy  of  island 
peoples.  You  would  hesitate  to  call  her  fat  —  she  is  just 
big,  sumptuous,  bearing  her  splendid  proportions  with  the 


56  OUR   HAWAII 

remarkable  poise  I  had  already  noticed  in  Hawaiian  women, 
only  more  magnificently.  Her  bare  shoulders  were  beauti- 
ful, the  pose  of  her  head  majestic,  piled  with  heavy,  fine, 
dark  hair  that  showed  bronze  lights  in  its  wavy  mass.  She 
was  superbly  gowned  in  silk  that  had  a  touch  of  purple  or 
lilac  about  it,  the  perfect  tone  for  her  full,  black,  calm 
eyes  and  warm,  tawny  skin.  For  these  of  chief  blood  are 
many  shades  fairer  than  the  commoners. 

Under  our  breath,  Jack  and  I  agreed  that  we  could  not 
expect  ever  to  behold  a  more  queenly  woman.  My  de- 
scriptive powers  are  exasperatingly  inept  to  picture  the 
manner  in  which  this  Princess  stood,  touching  with  hers 
the  hands  of  all  who  passed,  with  a  brief,  graceful  droop 
of  her  patrician  head,  and  a  fleeting,  perfunctory,  yet 
gracious  flash  of  little  teeth  under  her  small  fine  mouth. 
Glorious  she  was,  the  Princess  Kalanianaole,  every  inch  a 
princess  in  the  very  tropical  essence  of  her.  Always  shall 
I  remember  her  as  a  resplendent  exotic  flower,  swaying 
and  bending  its  head  with  unaffected,  innate  grace. 

One  and  all,  they  filed  by,  those  of  her  own  race,  proud 
and  humble  alike,  kissing  the  small,  jeweled  brown  hand, 
while  the  white  Americans  merely  touched  it  with  their  own. 
And  what  came  most  sharply  to  me,  out  of  the  convention- 
ality, out  of  the  scene  so  wrapped  about  with  state  and 
pomp,  was  a  fleeting,  shifting  glint  of  the  wild  in  her  great 
black  eyes,  shining  through  the  garmenture  of  her  almost 
incredible  culture  and  refinement  —  a  fitful  spark  of  the 
passing  savage  soul  of  her,  one  of  a  people  but  lately 
clothed  in  modern  manners. 

To  the  left  of  the  deposed  Princess,  in  a  deep  armchair, 
sat  an  even  more  interesting,  if  not  so  beautiful,  personage 
—  no  less  than  Queen  Lydia  Kamakaeha  Liliuokalani,  the 
last  sovereign  of  the  Kingdom  of  Hawaii,  sister  and  suc- 
cessor to  the  far-famed  and  much-traveled  King  Kala- 
kaua.  The  Queen  is  rarely  on  view  to  foreigners,  especially 
Americans,  for  she  loves  us  not,  albeit  her  consort,  Governor 


OUR  HAWAII  57 

John  Owen  Dominis,  dead  these  sixteen  years,  was  the  son 
of  a  Massachusetts  captain.  I  was  glad  to  be  well  down 
the  line,  as  I  had  more  time  to  watch  her,  for  the  vigor  of 
her  great  fight  of  but  yesterday  to  preserve  the  Crown 
of  Hawaii  is  to  me  one  of  the  most  interesting  dramas  in 
history  —  bleeding  tragedy  to  her. 

Photographs  and  paintings  do  not  flatter  Queen  Liliuoka- 
lani.  All  I  have  seen  depict  a  coarseness  and  heaviness 
that  is  entirely  absent.  I  was  therefore  surprised,  brought 
face  to  face  with  Her  Majesty,  to  find  that  face  rather 
thin,  strong,  and  pervaded  with  an  elusive  refinement 
that  might  be  considered  her  most  striking  characteristic, 
if  anything  elusive  can  be  striking.  But  this  evasive 
effect,  in  a  countenance  fairly  European  in  feature,  was 
due,  I  think,  to  the  expression  of  the  narrow  black  eyes, 
rather  close-set,  which  were  implacably  savage  in  their 
cold  hatred  of  everything  American.  And  who  can  blame 
her  ?  As  near  as  I  can  figure  it,  she  was  tricked  and  trapped 
by  brains  for  which  her  brain,  remarkable  though  it  be, 
was  no  match.  Imagine  her  emotions,  she  who  received 
special  favor  from  Queen  Victoria  at  the  Jubilee  in  London ; 
she  who  then  had  the  present  Kaiser  for  right-hand  courtier 
at  royal  banquets,  and  the  royal  escort  of  Duke  This  and 
Earl  That  upon  public  occasions,  now  sitting  uncrowned, 
receiving  her  conquerors. 

It  is  easier  for  the  younger  ones ;  but  the  old  Queen's 
pretense  is  thin,  and  my  sympathy,  for  one,  is  very  warm 
toward  her.  There  is  no  gainsaying  that  truism,  "the 
survival  of  the  fittest/7  in  the  far  drift  of  the  human,  and 
the  white  indubitably  has  proved  the  fittest;  but  our 
hearts  are  all  for  this  poor  old  Queen-woman ;  although  I 
could  not  help  wondering  if  she  would  have  liked  us  any 
better  had  she  known.  Most  certainly,  when  our  eyes 
met  in  the  short  contact  of  glances  there  was  nothing  of 
the  tender  suavity  of  the  Hawaiian,  only  abysmal  dislike. 
Taking  my  cue  from  those  preceding,  I  offered  a  dubious 


58  OUR  HAWAII 

paw,  which  she  touched  gingerly,  as  if  she  would  much  prefer 
to  slap  it.  It  was  a  distinct  relief  to  meet  the  prankish 
eye  of  Acting  Governor  "Jack"  Atkinson,  my  Jack's  old 
friend  (who  stood  next  the  Queen's  chair,  murmuring  in 
her  ear  the  names  of  strangers),  and  surrender  my  timor- 
ous hand  to  his  hearty  clasp.  "How  are  you,  old  man?" 
he  whispered  to  Jack. 

And  thence  on,  down  one  side  of  the  long  lanai,  and  off 
to  the  lawn,  we  ran  the  gantlet  of  a  bowing,  embarrassed, 
amused  string  of  Congressmen  with  their  wives  and  daugh- 
ters, all  smiling  uncomfortably  in  the  absence  of  intro- 
ductions, since  they  formed  the  Reception  Committee  in 
this  stranger  city.  We  undoubtedly  looked  quite  as  foolish, 
when  the  tension  was  immeasurably  let  down  by  a  jolly 
young  Congressman  who  blurted  out : 

"That  Jack  London!  Why  didn't  somebody  tell  us? 
Great  Scott!" 

A  subdued  titter  went  up,  and  I  said  to  the  grinning  Jack : 
"That's  how  you  pay  for  your  'Dream  Harbor'  seclusion ! " 

Now  we  were  free  to  mingle  with  the  charming  throng, 
and  it  was  "Aloha"  here  and  "Aloha"  there,  lovely  and 
all-loving  salutation,  employed  alike  by  white  and  native. 
We  happened  upon  old  acquaintances  from  the  States, 
and  were  introduced  to  many  Honolulans.  Some  of 
these  were  Hawaiian  or  part-Hawaiian,  who  met  us  with 
a  half-bashful,  affectionate  child-sweetness  that  was  alto- 
gether irresistible.  There  is  that  in  their  beautiful  eyes 
which  is  a  golden  trumpet  call  for  a  like  honesty  and  good 
will  and  well-meaning. 

Every  one  shakes  hands  —  men,  women,  children  —  at 
every  friendly  excuse  of  meeting  and  parting.  Smiles  are 
one  with  the  language,  and  there  is  a  pretty  custom  of 
ending  a  remark,  or  even  a  direction,  or  command,  with  a 
pleasant  "eh!"  -the  e  pronounced  a,  with  an  upward 
inflection.  Jack  is  especially  taken  with  this  gentle 
snapper,  and  goes  about  practicing  on  it  with  great  glee. 


OUR  HAWAII  59 

You  might  have  thought  yourself  at  a  social  fair  at  home, 
what  of  the  canopies,  refreshments,  and  familiar  faces 
of    countrymen  —  but    for    the    interspersing  of    brown 
Hawaiians,  so  soft  and  so  velvet  in  face  and  body,  voice 
and  movement,  "the  friendliest  and  kindest  people  in  the 
world."    A  learned  New  Englander  over  forty  years  ago 
eulogized  :  "  When  the  instinct  of  hospitality  which  is  native 
to  these  islands  gets  informed  and  enriched  and  graced  by 
foreign  wealth,  intelligence,  and  culture,  it  certainly  fur- 
nishes the  perfection  of  social  entertainment.     Of  course 
there  are  in  other  lands  special  circles  of  choice  spirits  who 
secure  a  brilliant  intercourse  all  to  themselves  of  a  rare 
and  high  kind,  but  I  question  if  anywhere  in  the  whole 
world  general  society  is  more  attractive  than  in  Honolulu. 
Certainly  nowhere  else  do  so  many  nationalities  blend  in 
harmonious   social   intercourse.    Natives   of   every   well- 
known  country  reside  there,  and  trading  vessels  or  war- 
ships from  America  and  the  leading  countries  of  Europe 
are  frequently  in  port.     A  remarkable  trait  of  these  foreign- 
born  or  naturalized  Hawaiians  is  that  interest  in  their 
native  land  seems  only  intensified  by  their  distant  residence. 
The  better  Hawaiians  they  are,   the  better  Americans, 
English,  French,  or  Germans  they  are.     And  thus  it  hap- 
pens that  you  meet  people  fully  alive  to  the  great  questions 
and  issues  of  the  day  all  the  world  over.    Their  distance 
from  the  scene  of  these  conflicts  seems  to  clear  their  view, 
and  I  have  heard  some  of  the  wisest  possible  comments 
upon  American  affairs,  methods,  and  policies  from  resi- 
dents of  the  islands.     Besides,   they  have  in  small  the 
same  problems  to  solve  in  their  little  kingdom  which  ^en- 
gage us.     All  the  projected  reforms,  social,  moral,  civil, 
or  religious,  have  their  place  and  agitators  here." 

The  residence  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  was  open  to 
the  public,  and  through  a  labyrinth  of  handsome  apart- 
ments we  roamed,  now  up  a  step  into  a  big  drawing-room 
furnished  in  magnificent  native  woods  and  enormous 


60  OUR  HAWAII 

pots  of  showering  ferns,  the  walls  hung  with  old  portraits 
in  oil  of  the  rulers  of  Hawaii ;  now  down  three  steps  into 
a  pillared  recess  where,  in  a  huge  iron  safe,  unlocked  for 
the  evening,  we  were  shown  various  trophies  of  the  mon- 
archies. Near  by  were  several  tremendously  valuable  old 
royal  capes  woven  of  tiny  bird-feathers,  some  red,  some 
of  a  rich  deep  yellow,  and  others  of  the  two  colors  com- 
bined in  a  glowing  orange.  In  still  another  apartment, 
a  glass-front  cabinet  displayed  shelf  after  shelf  of  medals 
and  trinkets  pertaining  to  the  past  regime,  including  the 
endless  decorations  received  by  King  David  Kalakaua  in 
the  lands  visited  in  his  progress  around  the  world  in  the 
early  '8os.  Some  one  remarked  that  he  had  possessed 
more  of  these  royal  decorations  than  any  known  monarch. 
But  this  is  not  so  surprising  as  the  fact  that  he  was  the 
only  known  reigning  monarch  who  ever  circumnavigated 
the  globe. 

A  space  in  the  fascinating  cabinet  was  devoted  to  the 
Crown  of  the  Realm,  a  piece  of  workmanship  at  once 
formal  and  barbaric,  with  its  big  bright  gems,  most  con- 
spicuous of  which,  to  me,  were  the  huge  pearls.  One 
diamond  had  been  stolen,  and  the  large  gaping  socket  was 
a  pathetic  reminder  of  the  empty  throne  in  the  old  Palace 
which  is  now  the  Executive  Building. 

Many  and  barbaric  were  the  objects  in  this  modern 
home,  mere  "curios"  should  the  uncaring  gaze  upon  them 
in  a  museum;  but  here  in  Hawaii  they  breathed  of  the 
pomp  of  a  vanishing  race  whose  very  hands  we  were  press- 
ing and  whose  singers'  living  voices  caressed  the  heavy, 
fragrant  air ;  the  while  across  a  lawn  that  had  been  carpet 
for  Hawaii  Nei  festivities  of  many  years  sat  the  rebellious 
deprived  Queen  under  the  eaves  of  a  grass  house. 

When,  we  wonder,  in  our  westward  traverse,  shall  we 
see  another  queen,  or  a  prince,  or  a  princess  —  even  shadows 
of  such  as  are  these  of  Hawaii  ?  Not  soon  enough,  I  swear, 
to  fade  the  memory  of  this  remarkable  trio;  for  nothing 


OUR  HAWAII  61 

can  ever  dim  the  picture  that  is  ours.  And  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  Kalanianole  has  set  an  example,  a  pattern,  that 
will  make  us  full  critical  of  royal  women  of  any  blood. 

SEASIDE  HOTEL,  WAIKIKI  BEACH, 
HONOLULU,  May  31,  1907. 

"Waikiki!  there  is  something  in  the  very  name  that 
smacks  of  the  sea!"  caroled  a  visitor  in  the  late  '703. 
Waikiki  —  the  seaside  resort  of  the  world,  for  there  is 
nothing  comparable  to  it,  not  only  in  the  temperature  of 
its  effervescent  water,  which  averages  78°  the  year  round, 
but  in  the  surroundings,  as  well  as  the  unusual  variety  of 
sports  connected  with  it,  surf-canoeing  in  the  impressively 
savage  black-and-yellow  dug-outs,  surf-boarding,  the  an- 
cient game  of  kings,  fishing,  sailing ;  and  all  on  a  variously 
shallow  reef,  where  one  may  swim  and  romp  forgetful 
hours  without  necessarily  going  out  of  depth  on  the  sandy 
bottom.  The  cream-white  curve  of  beach  is  for  miles 
plumed  with  coconut  palms,  and  Diamond  Head,  "Leahi," 
that  loveliest  of  old  craters,  which  rounds  in  the  south- 
eastern end  of  the  graceful  crescent,  is  painted  by  every 
shifting  color,  light,  and  shade,  the  day  long,  on  its  rose- 
tawny,  serrated  steeps.  And  many's  the  sail  comes 
whitening  around  the  point,  yacht  or  schooner  or  full- 
rigged  ship,  a  human  mote  that  catches  the  eye  and  sets 
one  a-dreaming  of  lately  hailed  home  harbors  and  far 
foreign  ports  with  enchanting  names. 

Waikiki  I  Waikiki !  We  keep  repeating  the  word,  for 
already  it  spells  a  new  phase  of  existence.  Here  but  a 
scant  twenty-four  hours,  and  already  Jack's  Dream  Har- 
bor seems  faint  and  distant,  slipping  into  a  mild  and 
pleasant,  not  imperative  memory,  for  the  spirit  of  storied 
Waikiki  has  entered  ours.  The  air  seems  full  of  wings,  I 
am  so  happy  making  home,  this  time  a  tent.  We  two 
can  pitch  home  anywhere  we  happen  to  light :  a  handful 


62  OUR   HAWAII 

of  clothes-hangers,  some  paper  and  a  supply  of  Jack's 
chubby  ink-pencils  —  and  other  details  are  mere  inci- 
dentals, for  home  is  in  our  hearts.  After  all,  perhaps  the 
art  of  living,  greatest  of  arts,  may  be  partially  summed 
up  in  this  wise : 

"...  to  inhabit  the  earth  is  to  love  that 

which  is ;  to  catch  the  savor  of  things." 

This  domicile  is  a  brown  tent-house,  comprising  three 
rooms  separated  by  thin  portieres,  with  an  accessory  bath- 
house and  servant  room,  also  of  tenting,  and  is  the  last 
of  a  scattered  row  of  detached  accommodations  belonging 
to  the  Seaside  Hotel,  some  of  them  weathered  old  cottages 
whose  history  one  would  love  to  know.  A  short  distance 
mauka,  as  every  one  says  for  "mountain ward,"  or  away 
from  makai  (toward  the  sea),  on  a  lawn  pillared  with  sky- 
brushing  coconut  palms,  still  stands  a  true  old  grass  house 
of  romantic  association.  It  was  created  for  the  seaside  re- 
treat of  King  Lot,  Kamehameha  V,  during  his  reign  in  the 
decade  commencing  1863,  and  each  Wednesday  was  devoted 
to  the  fashioning  of  it,  from  Lama  wood  inside  and  pandanus 
leaves  outside.  It  was  named  Lama  House,  for  the  wood 
was  of  custom  sacred  to  the  temples  and  construction 
of  idols  in  the  older  days.  The  King  left  no  issue,  and 
upon  his  death  the  estate  went  to  the  Princess  Ruta 
(Ruth)  Keelikolani,  and  at  her  demise  to  Mrs.  Bernice 
Pauahi  Bishop,  the  last  descendant  of  Kamehameha  the 
Great. 

To  the  south  we  are  separated  from  the  big  Moana  Hotel 
with  its  tiers  of  green  roofs,  which  is  fairly  empty  and 
quiet  between  steamer  arrivals,  by  a  sand-banked  stream 
fed  from  the  mountains,  with,  beyond,  a  lavender  field  of 
lilies.  Kalakaua  Avenue  runs  so  far  away  across  the  hotel 
gardens  that  the  only  sound  from  that  quarter  is  an  oc- 
casional rumble  of  electric  trams  crossing  a  bridge  over 
the  stream,  fitting  into  our  bright  solitude  like  distant 


OUR  HAWAII  63 

thunder  from  the  black  range  that  we  glimpse  through  a 
grove  of  palms  and  algaroba. 

Not  twenty  feet  in  front,  where  grass  grows  to  the 
water's  edge  at  highest  tide,  the  sands,  sparkling  under 
blazing  sunrays,  are  frilled  by  the  lazy  edges  of  the  surf; 
and  the  flawed  tourmaline  of  the  reef -waters,  pale  green, 
or  dull  pink  from  underlying  coral  patches,  stretches  to  the 
low  white  line  of  breakers  on  the  barrier  reef  some  half- 
mile  seaward,  while  farthest  beyond  lies  the  peacock-blue 
ribbon  of  the  deep-sea  horizon. 

In  the  cool  of  morning,  we  skipped  across  the  prickly 
grasses  for  a  dip,  accompanied  by  a  frisking  collie  neighbor. 
The  water  was  even  more  wonderful  than  at  the  Lochs, 
invigorating  enough  at  this  early  hour,  full  of  life  and 
movement.  Jack  gave  me  lessons  in  diving  through  the 
mild  breakers,  and  it  was  hard  to  tear  ourselves  away,  even 
for  the  tempting  breakfast  tray  that  a  white-suited  Filipino 
was  bearing  to  the  tent-house. 

While  I  write,  Jack,  in  his  beloved  old  blue  kimono,  sits 
working  in  a  drafty  space  he  has  hunted  in  the  front 
room.  As  for  the  kimono,  it  is  limp  and  shabby  from 
many  launderings.  "But  I  love  the  old  thing,"  he  says, 
"  although,  if  you'll  buy  me  a  new  one  next  time  you're  in 
town,  I  promise  to  wear  it."  He  is  commencing  an  article 
on  amateur  navigation,  for  Harper's,  which  he  calls  "Find- 
ing One's  Way  About."  This  is  the  second  article  of  a 
series  for  Harper's  on  the  Snark  venture.  The  first,  written 
at  sea  and  entitled  "The  Inconceivable  and  Monstrous," 
deals  with  the  building  of  his  much-sinned-against  craft. 
The  name  of  the  article  should  be  an  incitement  to  read ! 
He  declares  that  these  articles  will  be  the  only  ones  con- 
cerning the  actual  voyage,  handling  the  various  striking 
phases  of  the  experience;  otherwise  he  will  devote  his 
energies  to  fiction  —  his  creative  man- work,  —  while  I 
am  to  keep  the  diary. 

One  reason  why  Jack  has  concluded  to  limit  his  writing 


64  OUR   HAWAII 

upon  the  voyage  itself,  is  because  the  eastern  magazine 
that  first  contracted  to  buy  the  same  immediately  started 
a  pernicious  advertising  to  the  effect  that  it  was  sending 
the  Snark  around  the  world.  This  naturally  incensed 
Jack,  who  was  paying  dearly  out  of  his  own  pocket  with 
deadly  hard  work,  in  the  chaotic  conditions  succeeding 
the  earthquake,  to  prepare  the  vessel  for  sea.  The  maga- 
zine tried  to  get  back  at  him  for  his  prompt  stand  against 
such  advertising  by  attacking  his  good  faith  in  arranging 
with  a  woman's  magazine  for  a  set  of  land  articles  on 
domestic  customs  of  women  and  children  in  the  islands 
we  should  visit;  whereupon  Jack,  a  bonny  fighter,  per- 
fectly clear  in  his  own  mind  as  to  his  intent  and  integrity, 
refused  to  do  any  voyage  articles  whatever.  To  fulfill 
the  contract,  in  place  of  the  mooted  yachting  articles,  he 
offered  a  string  of  autobiographical  studies  of  his  tramping 
days  across  the  United  States ;  and  these  were  indignantly 
but  avidly  accepted  by  the  editor,  who  was  "in  wrong" 
and  knew  it,  and  who  had  to  make  good  to  his  magazine. 
Jack  is  still  giggling  over  the  fury  of  the  editor,  who  was 
so  altogether  out  of  sor';s  that  in  an  inexplicable  humor  he 
offered  a  higher  price  for  the  substitute  work  —  which, 
not  surprisingly,  was  accepted  before  he  had  a  chance  to 
catch  his  breath.  The  autobiographical  sketches  are  now 
running  under  the  title  of  "My  Life  in  the  Underworld," 
although  Jack's  caption  was  "The  Road,"  which  will  be 
the  name  of  the  book  when  issued. 

Mayhap  I  have  been  trying  to  do  too  much  in  this  un- 
accustomed climate,  for  the  long  ride  yesterday  from  Pearl 
Lochs  left  me  very  tired.  The  trade  wind  has  died  again, 
and  the  only  breeze  was  what  our  speed  might  afford ;  and 
speeding  for  breeze  on  a  Kona  day  is  enervating  for  man 
and  beast.  But  we  enjoyed  the  ride,  for  the  two  small 
mares,  with  regular  use,  have  become  very  docile  to 
wrist  and  heel. 

Mr.  Fred  Church,  manager  of  the  Seaside,  is  a  really- 


OUR  HAWAH  65 

truly  acquaintance  of  Jack's  Yukon  days.  There  are  so 
many  claimants  who  are  not  really-truly  —  although  Jack 
has  never  "given  away"  a  mother's  son  of  them,  on  occasion 
when  they  have  been  dragged  up  by  fond  relatives  to  make 
good  their  assertions.  "Let  'm  have  their  fun,"  he  laughs ; 
"it  doesn't  hurt  me  any.  It's  awful  to  be  called  down  in 
front  of  one's  women-folk!"  There  are  instances  when  I 
cannot  quite  approve  of  the  length  to  which  he  carries  this 
policy,  for  very  nasty  tales  have  based  upon  his  easy  in- 
dulgent, "Oh,  sure,  I  remember !"  to  some  perfect  stranger 
who  has  bragged,  "Don't  you  remember  that  time  you  and 
I  .  .  .?"  when  Jack  and  I  together  were  elsewhere  at  the 
dates  mentioned.  But  little  he  cares  for  the  opinions  ex- 
cept of  a  close  few  —  very  few.  Large-mindedly  he  lays 
himself  open  to  all  sorts  of  criticism  and  revilement  —  and 
gets  it.  "  These  aren't  the  things  that  count,  Mate  Woman," 
he^ reasons.  "What  you  and  I  think  and  know  are  the  big 
things.  —  Besides,"  he  usually  sums  up,  "I  have  to  sleep 
with  myself,  and  I  sleep  well."  So  much  for  his  good 
conscience. 

^  But  I  was  talking  about  this  genuine  Klondiker,  Fred 
Church,  our  big,  good-looking,  breezy  host,  who,  ably  aided 
and  abetted  by  his  little  beauty  wife,  makes  the  guest 
feel^  as  if  entertained  in  their  private  home  —  the  very 
genius  of  hotel  management.  Mr.  Church  was  full  as 
cordial  as  ^  the  letters  he  had  been  sending  from  the  day 
of  our  arrival,  in  which  he  had  urged  us  to  be  his  guests 
for  all  the  privileges  of  the  Beach.  Pleasure  in  the  Beach 
itself  was  doubled  by  the  welcome  of  these  two  and  their 
discerning  choice  of  this  sequestered  little  house  of  brown 
canvas  and  wire-screening,  swept  by  every  wind  that  blows, 
from  mauka  or  makai.  Tired  and  warm  as  we  were,  their 
suggestion  for  a  swim  before  dinner  was  just  as  exactly 
inspired  as  Gretchen  Waterhouse's  invitation  to  a  hot 
tubbing. 
Besides  our  cottage  row,  the  Seaside  Hotel  comprises 


66  OUR  HAWAII 

one  large  frame  house  of  many  rooms,  half  over  the  water, 
reached  by  a  winding  driveway  from  the  main  avenue 
through  a  grove  of  lofty  coconut  palms,  under  which  stray 
large  cottages  belonging  to  the  hotel.  In  a  rambling  one- 
storied  building  are  the  kitchen,  the  bar,  an  oriental  private 
dining  room,  and  a  reception  hall,  also  furnished  in  Chinese 
carved  woods  and  splendid  fittings,  that  belong  to  the  estate. 
This  hall  opens  into  a  circular  lanai  with  frescoed  ceil- 
ing —  a  round  dining  and  ballroom  open  half  its  disk. 
Beyond  the  curving  steps,  on  the  lawn  toward  the  sea, 
grow  two  huge  gnarled  hau  trees,  each  in  the  center  of  a 
round  platform  where  drinks  are  served.  The  hau  is  a 
native  of  the  Islands,  and  is  nearly  related  to  the  hibiscus. 
The  limbs  snarl  into  an  impenetrable  shade,  and  are  hung 
with  light  yellow  bells  formed  of  eight  to  ten  lobes,  which 
turn  to  mauve  and  then  to  ruddy  brown  when  they  fall. 

Dinner,  served  in  the  private  room,  was  given  by  the 
Churches  for  us  to  meet  some  of  Honolulu's  young  married 
pairs.  They  formed  a  glowing  ring  about  the  table,  which 
Mrs.  Church  had  decorated  in  poinsettia  and  red-shaded 
candles.  Each  woman  present  was  distinctly  handsome  in 
her  own  way,  and  all  were  beautifully  gowned  and  essen- 
tially "  smart."  Several  of  their  husbands  wore  white-and- 
gold  uniforms.  But  no  one  was  more  attractive  than  little 
Mrs.  Church  —  pretty  as  a  child  or  a  doll,  with  the  dignity 
of  carriage  that  can  make  a  small  woman  the  stateliest  in 
the  world. 

After  the  dinner,  the  dance  —  "Transport  Night  Dance. " 
While  the  first  word  is  appropriate  for  the  bewitchment  of 
dancing  in  a  Hawaiian  night  to  the  music  of  Hawaii,  it  is 
here  used  to  designate  the  entertainment  on  arrival  of  a 
United  States  Army  transport,  when  the  officers  and  their 
ladies  come  ashore  midway  in  the  long  passage  to  or  from 
the  Coast  and  the  Philippines. 

The  immense  half-open  circle  of  the  lanai  was  cleared 
of  dining  equipment,  and  the  shining  floor  dusted  with  shav- 


OUR  HAWAII  67 

ings  of  wax.  Many-hued  Chinese  lanterns  were  the  only 
lighting  here  and  out  among  the  trees,  where  dancers  rested 
in  the  pauses  of  the  music. 

And  the  music.  It  was  made  entirely  by  a  Hawaiian 
orchestra  of  guitars  and  ukuleles,  with  a  piano  for  accent, 
and  all  I  had  heard  and  dreamed  of  the  glamour  of  "steamer 
night  in  Honolulu"  came  to  pass.  It  seemed  hardly  more 
real  than  the  dream,  gliding  over  the  glassy  floor  to  lilt 
of  hulas  played  and  sung  by  these  brown  musicians  whose 
mellow,  slurring  voices  sang  to  the  ukuleles  and  guitars 
because  they  could  not  refrain  from  singing.  Only  one 
regret  was  mine  —  that  Jack  did  not  dance.  Jack  never 
dances.  "I  never  had  time  to  learn,"  he  says,  "and  now 
I'm  too  old !  I'd  rather  keep  cool  and  watch  you  dance." 

One  of  our  party  at  dinner  was  Mrs.  A.  G.  Hawes,  whose 
name,  Francesca  Colonna,  is  no  more  gorgeously  Italian 
than  her  great  black  eyes  and  gold-banded  black  hair. 
Between  two  dances,  she  carried  me  off  to  a  group  at  a  table 
under  a  hau  tree,  where  I  found  Jack  talking  with  Princess 
David  Kawananakoa  and  her  husband,  who  is  brother  to 
Prince  Cupid,  and  whom  he  resembles.  This  princess, 
Abigail,  was  a  Campbell,  and  is  only  about  an  eighth 
Hawaiian.  And  oh,  she  is  a  beauty !  —  no  more  splendid 
in  carriage  than  her  sister-in-law,  but  much  more  Euro- 
pean in  coloring  and  feature.  Doubtlessly  she  could  be 
quite  as  regal  upon  occasion;  but  this  evening  she  was 
charmingly  vivacious,  and  I  caught  myself  looking  with 
affection  born  of  the  instant  into  her  beautiful  eyes  that 
smiled  irresistibly  with  her  beautiful  mouth  —  "a  smile  of 
pearls." 

During  a  dance  with  an  army  officer,  I  quite  fittingly 
and  very  slightly  cut  my  hand  upon  a  sword  in  a  sheath  of 
swords  decorating  the  central  column.  My  partner  was 
greatly  distressed  and  apologetic,  but  I  assured  him  that 
my  first  military  ball  could  not  have  been  complete  without 
this  sword  scratch. 


68  OUR  HAWAII 

An  interesting  incident  of  the  evening  was  the  meeting 
with  Mrs.  Francis  Gay,  of  Kauai.  Years  ago,  I  used  to  see 
her  and  her  sister,  now  Mrs.  Jordan,  traveling  to  and 
from  Berkeley  and  San  Francisco,  music-rolls  in  hand,  both 
daughters  of  Judge  C.  F.  Hart,  who  had  married  a  lady  of 
Hawaii.  Mrs.  Gay  is  very  handsome,  with  the  eyes  and 
mouth  of  her  mother's  people  —  sweet  and  caressing  and 
gracious. 

The  lovely  ball  closed  with  "Aloha  Oe,"  Love  to  You, 
in  waltz  measure,  while  the  dancers  joined  in  singing.  The 
last,  slow,  dying  cadence  left  one  with  a  reposeful  sense 
of  fulfillment,  and  none  broke  this  dreamy  repose  by  clap- 
ping for  an  encore. 

WAIKIKI,  Saturday,  June  i,  1907. 

Yesterday,  after  a  luncheon  that  included  our  first  yam 
(little  different  from  and  no  better  than  a  fried  potato- 
patty),  we  rode  to  Diamond  Head,  where  at  last  I  gazed 
into  my  first  crater.  The  way  led  through  Kapiolani 
Park,  where  the  little  sleeping  volcano  formed  a  painted 
background  for  the  scattered  trees  and  blossoming  lotus 
ponds.  Once  out  of  the  shady  driveways,  we  sweltered  on 
the  rising  white  road  in  a  windless  glare. 

It  was  a  mud  volcano,  this  Leahi,  and  upon  its  oblong 
steep  sides  remain  the  gutterings  of  age-ago  eruptions. 
While  less  than  eight  hundred  feet  high,  at  a  distance 
it  appears  much  higher.  We  had  had  a  never-to-be- 
forgotten  view  of  it  on  our  first  ride  to  Honolulu,  when, 
through  a  gap,  we  looked  across  the  tree-embowered  city, 
and  the  low  red  crater  of  Punchbowl  —  Puowaina;  and 
far  Diamond  Head  rose  too  ethereal  in  the  shimmering 
atmosphere  to  be  of  solid  earth  thrown  up  by  ancient  con- 
vulsions. 

Skirting  the  south  side  of  the  Head,  we  tethered  our 
dripping  horses,  and  on  foot  climbed  the  light-colored, 
limy  wall,  seething  hot  under  the  midday  sun.  I  arrived 


OUR  HAWAII  69 

at  the  edge  of  the  crater  sans  heart  and  lungs,  muscles 
quivering,  and  eyes  dim.  But  what  I  there  saw  brought 
me  back  in  short  order  to  my  normal  state  of  joy  at  being 
alive.  Compared  with  other  wonders  of  Hawaii  Nei, 
probably  this  small  hollow  mountain  should  be  sung  with- 
out trumpets.  But  I  have  not  seen  Haleakala  and  Kilauea, 
Mauna  Kea  or  Hualalai,  and  lacked  no  thrills  over  my  first 
volcano,  albeit  a  dead  one.  The  bowl  is  a  wonderfully 
symmetrical  oval,  and  may  be  half  a  mile  long  —  we  could 
not  judge,  for  the  eye  measures  all  awry  these  incurving 
walls  of  tender  green,  cradling,  far  beneath,  the  still  green 
oval  mirror  of  a  lakelet. 

We  rested  our  burned  eyes  well  on  the  soft  green  shell  of 
earth  before  retracing  the  scorching  way  down  to  the  horses, 
and  decided  that  small-boat  travel  is  ill  training  for  moun- 
tain scaling  anywhere  near  the  Southern  Cross.  Around 
Diamond  Head  we  continued,  gazing  off  across  blue  bays 
and  white  beaches  to  Koko  Head,  very  innocent  seen  from 
the  land  by  light  of  day,  but  full  of  omen  by  night  when 
winds  blow  hot  and  small  Snarks  drift  too  near  wicked 
reefs.  To-day  the  road  led  close  by  Diamond  Head 
lighthouse  and  the  signal  station  that  telephoned  our 
approach  to  Honolulu ;  and  we  learned  that  it  was  wire- 
lessed from  the  city  to  the  island  of  Maui,  where  the  Con- 
gressional party  hung  10,000  feet,  on  the  lip  of  Haleakala's 
twenty- three-mile  crater.  How  different  from  times  when 
the  only  way  of  messages  was  by  the  watery  miles  separat- 
ing the  islands,  in  small  sloops  and  schooners  or  outrigger 
canoes,  and  telephones  had  never  been  dreamed  of. 

On  the  way  to  return  Mr.  RowelPs  mares,  Jack  took  me 
aside  to  the  transport  wharf  that  I  might  see  the  departure 
of  a  vessel  from  Honolulu,  for  never,  since  his  own  expe- 
riences, has  he  spoken  without  emotion  of  this  beautiful 
ceremonial.  There  is  nothing  like  it  anywhere  else  in  the 
world. 

The  steamer  decks  were  bowers  of  fragrant  color,  as  was 


70  OUR  HAWAII 

the  wharf,  for  the  shoulders  of  the  departing  congressmen 
and  their  womenfolk  were  high-piled  with  wreaths,  of 
ilima,  of  roses,  of  heliotrope,  carnations,  lilies,  and  scented 
green  things,  while  the  dense  throng  ashore  was  hardly 
less  garlanded,  and  streams  of  flowers  flowed  back  and  forth 
on  the  gangways.  A  great  humming  of  voices  blent  with 
the  quivering  strains  of  an  Hawaiian  orchestra  on  the  upper 
deck,  and  now  and  again  all  lesser  tuneful  din  drowned 
in  a  patriotic  burst  from  Berger's  Royal  Hawaiian  Band 
ashore.  An  impressive  scene  it  was,  not  alone  for  beauty, 
but  in  a  human  way,  for  the  myriad  faces  of  the  con- 
course shaded  from  white  through  all  the  browns  to  yellow 
skins,  mingling  in  good  fellowship  and  oneness  of  spirit 
in  this  hour  of  farewell  to  the  lawmakers  of  their  com- 
mon cause.  And  none  of  these  wishing  godspeed  were 
more  imposing  nor  charming  than  the  Hawaiians,  from  the 
two  Princes  and  their  splendid  consorts  to  the  humblest 
of  their  people.  Humblest  is  wrong  —  there  is  no  humility 
in  the  breed.  Their  eyes  look  only  an  innocent  equality 
of  sweet  frankness,  and  their  feet  step  without  fear  the 
soil  they  can  but  still  feel  is  their  dearest  own. 

Prince  Cupid,  the  delegate,  received  round  after  round 
of  cheers  from  the  passengers  as  the  deep-mouthed  siren 
called  the  parting  moment,  and  at  the  last,  the  native 
orchestra,  descending  the  gangway,  joined  with  the  wind 
instruments  in  Queen  Liliuokalani's  own  song,  composed 
during  her  eight  months'  imprisonment,  sweetest  of  fare- 
wells and  hopes  for  a  returning,  "  Aloha  Oe."  The  human 
being  did  not  live  whose  heart  was  not  conscious  of  a  name- 
less longing  for  he  knew  not  what.  One  ached  with  burden 
of  all  the  good-bys  that  ever  were  and  ever  will  be,  of  all 
the  sailings  of  all  the  ships  of  all  the  world.  I  looked  up 
into  Jack's  face,  and  his  eyes  were  shining  moist  as  he 
pressed  my  hand,  knowing  I  was  as  moved  as  he  could  wish. 

"O  warp  her  out  with  garlands  from  the  quays," 


OUR  HAWAII  71 

went  through  my  mind  when  the  vessel  glided  slowly  past 
the  wharf,  and  the  ropes  of  living  blossoms  and  network 
of  wild-hued  serpentine  parted  and  fell  into  the  water. 
Flowers  filled  the  air  as  they  were  tossed  to  and  from  the 
gay  tiers  of  the  ship,  many  falling  into  the  stream,  until 
she  moved  upon  a  gorgeous  tapestry. 

As  the  huge  black  transport  cleared,  suddenly  her  sur- 
face seemed  flying  to  pieces.  A  perfect  fusillade  of  small 
dark  objects  in  human  form  sprang  from  her  sides,  rails, 
rigging,  from  every  height  of  ringbolt  and  sill,  and  dis- 
appeared in  almost  unrippling  dives  through  the  swirling 
blossomy  carpet  of  the  harbor. 

' 'Look  —  look  at  them!"  Jack  cried,  incoherent  with 
the  excitement  of  his  joy  in  the  little  kanaka  imps  who 
entered  the  water  so  perfectly  and  came  up  shaking  petals 
from  their  curly  heads,  white  teeth  flashing,  their  child 
faces  eloquent  with  expectation  of  a  lucrative  shower  from 
the  passengers.  A  bountiful  day  it  was  for  them,  and 
little  their  bright  eyes  and  brown  hands  lost  of  the  copper 
and  silver  disks  that  slowly  fell  through  the  bubbling 
flood.  We  wished  we  were  down  there  with  them,  for  it 
is  great  fun  to  pick  a  coin  from  the  deep  as  it  filters 
down  with  a  short,  angled,  tipping  motion. 

"Do  you  wish  you  were  aboard,  going  back?"  Jack 
asked,  as  we  turned  for  the  last  time  to  look  at  the  diminish- 
ing bulk  of  the  transport,  bannered  with  scarves  and  hand- 
kerchiefs and  serpentine.  I  did  not.  I  want  to  go  home 
only  from  east  to  west.  Who  knows?  It  may  be 
through  the  Panama  Canal ! 

In  our  tent  household,  Jack  is  the  only  one  who  works. 
My  typewriter  was  left  behind  at  Pearl  Lochs,  and  I  do  not 
allow  myself  to  think  of  the  hot,  if  interesting  hours  of 
copying  upon  returning  Such  content  is  ours  here  at 
Waikiki,  that  Jack  says  it  is  a  shame  to  press  it  all  into  one 
life,  for  it  could  be  spread  over  several  incarnations.  We 


72  OUR  HAWAII 

sleep  like  babies,  in  the  salt  night  airs  wafting  through  the 
mosquito  canopies.  Before  breakfast,  it  is  into  the  bliss- 
ful warm  tide,  diving  through  bubbling  combers,  coming 
up  eyes  level  with  tiny  sails  of  fishermen  beyond  the 
barrier  reef.  The  pretty,  pretty  strand!  All  hours  one 
hears  the  steady,  gentle  boom  and  splash  of  the  surf  —  not 
the  big  disturbing,  ominous  gnashing  and  roaring  of  the  Pa- 
cific Coast  rollers,  nor  the  distant  carnivorous  growlings  off 
the  rock- jagged  line  of  New  England.  And  under  sun  or 
moon,  it  is  all  a  piece  of  beauty.  Toward  Diamond  Head, 
when  the  south  wind  drives,  the  swift  breakers,  like  endless 
charges  of  white  cavalry,  leap  and  surge  shoreward,  fling- 
ing back  long  silver  manes.  The  thrill  of  these  landward 
races  never  palls  at  Waikiki.  One  seems  to  vision  Pharaoh's 
Horses  in  mighty  struggle  against  backwashing  waters, 
arriving  nowhere,  dying  and  melting  impotent  upon  the 
sand. 

Jack,  to  whom  beauty  is  never  marred  by  knowledge 
of  its  why  and  wherefore,  has  explained  to  me  the  physics 
of  a  breaking  wave. 

"A  wave  is  a  communicated  agitation,"  he  says.  "The 
water  that  composes  a  wave  really  does  not  move.  If 
it  moved,  when  you  drop  a  stone  in  a  pool  and  the  ripples 
widen  in  an  increasing  circle,  there  should  be  at  the  center 
an  increasing  hole.  So  the  water  in  the  body  of  a  wave 
is  stationary.  If  you  observe  a  portion  of  the  ocean's 
surface,  you  will  see  that  the  same  water  rises  and  falls 
endlessly  to  the  agitation  communicated  by  endless  suc- 
cessive waves.  Then  picture  this  communicated  agitation 
moving  toward  shore.  As  the  land  shoals,  the  bottom  of 
the  wave  hits  first  and  is  stopped.  Water  is  fluid,  and  the 
upper  part  of  the  wave  not  having  been  stopped,  it  keeps 
on  communicating  its  agitation,  and  moves  on  shoreward. 
Ergo,"  says  he,  "something  is  bound  to  be  doing,  when 
the  top  of  a  wave  keeps  on  after  the  bottom  has  stopped, 
dropped  out  from  under.  Of  course,  the  wave-top  starts 


OUR  HAWAII  73 

to  fall,  forward,  down,  cresting,  overcurling,  and  crashing. 
So,  don't  you  see  ?  don't  you  see  ?  "  he  warms  to  his  illustra- 
tion, "it  is  actually  the  bottom  of  the  wave  striking  against 
the  rising  land  that  causes  the  surf !  And  where  the  land 
shoals  gradually,  as  inside  this  barrier  reef  at  Waikiki, 
the  rising  of  the  undulating  water  is  as  gradual,  and  a  ride 
of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more  can  be  made  shoreward  on 
the  cascading  face  of  a  wave." 

Alexander  Hume  Ford,  true  to  promise,  appeared  to- 
day with  an  enormous  surf -board,  made  fun  of  the  small 
ones  that  had  been  lent  us,  and  we  went  down  to  the  sea  to 
learn  something  of  hee-nalu,  sport  of  Hawaiian  kings.  The 
only  endeaver  of  fish,  flesh,  and  fowl,  which  Mr.  Ford 
seems  not  to  have  partially  compassed,  is  that  of  the 
feathered  tribe  —  undoubtedly  from  lack  of  time,  for  his 
energy  and  ambition  seem  tireless  enough  even  to  grow 
feathers.  Jack,  who  seldom  stops  short  of  what  he  wants 
to  accomplish,  finds  this  man  most  stimulating  in  an  un- 
selfish enthusiasm  to  revive  neglected  customs  of  elder 
islands  days,  for  the  benefit  of  Hawaii  and  her  adver- 
tisement to  the  world.  Although  we  have  seen  a  num- 
ber of  natives  riding  the  breakers,  face  downward,  and 
even  standing  upright,  almost  no  white  men  appear  to  be 
expert.  Mr.  Ford,  born  genius  of  pioneering  and  promot- 
ing, swears  he  is  going  to  make  this  islands  pastime  one  of 
the  most  popular  on  earth,  and,  judging  by  his  personal 
valor,  he  cannot  fail. 

The  thick  board,  somewhat  coffin-shaped,  with  rounded 
ends,  should  be  over  six  feet  long  for  adults.  This  plank 
is  floated  out  to  the  breaking  water,  which  can  be  done 
either  wading  alongside  or  lying  face-downward  paddling, 
and  there  you  wait  for  the  right  wave.  When  you  see  it 
coming,  stand  ready  to  launch  the  board  on  the  gathering 
slope,  spring  upon  it,  and  —  keep  on  going  if  you  can.  Lie 
flat  on  your  chest,  hands  grasping  the  sides  of  the  large 
end  of  the  heavy  timber,  and  steer  with  your  feet.  The 


74  OUR  HAWAII 

expert,  having  gauged  the  right  speed,  rises  cautiously  to 
his  knees,  to  full  stature,  and  then,  erect  with  feet  in  the 
churning  foam,  makes  straight  for  the  beach,  rides  up  the 
sparkling  incline,  and  steps  easily  from  his  arrested  sea-car. 

A  brisk  breeze  this  afternoon,  with  a  rising  surf,  brought 
out  the  best  men,  and  we  saw  some  splendid  natives  at 
close  range,  who  took  our  breath  away  with  their  reckless, 
beautiful  performance.  One,  George  Freeth,  who  is  only 
one  quarter  Hawaiian,  is  accounted  the  best  surf-board 
rider  and  swimmer  in  Honolulu. 

When  a  gloriously  bodied  kanaka,  naked  but  for  a  loin- 
cloth carved  against  his  shining  bronze,  takes  form  like  a 
miracle  in  the  down-rushing  smother  of  a  breaking  wave, 
arms  outstretched  and  heels  winged  with  backward-stream- 
ing spray,  you  watch,  stricken  of  speech.  And  it  is  not 
the  sheer  physical  splendor  of  the  thing  that  so  moves  one, 
for  lighting  and  informing  this  is  an  all  dominating  spirit 
of  joyful  fearlessness  and  freedom  that  manifests  an  almost 
visible  soul,  and  that  lends  a  slow  thrilling  of  awe  to  one's 
contemplation  of  the  beauty  and  wonder  of  the  human. 
What  was  it  an  old  Attic  philosopher  exclaimed  ?  "  Things 
marvelous  there  are  many,  but  among  them  all  naught 
moves  more  truly  marvelous  than  man." 

And  our  journalist  friend,  malihini,  white-skinned,  slim, 
duplicated  the  act,  and  Jack  murmured,  "Gee!  What  a 
sport  he  is  —  and  what  a  sport  it  is  for  white  men  too !" 
His  glowing  eyes,  and  a  well-known  firm  expression  about 
the  jaw,  told  me  he  would  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less 
than  hours  a  day  in  the  deep-water  smokers.  As  it  was, 
in  the  small  surf,  he  came  safely  in  several  times.  I  ac- 
complished one  successful  landing,  slipping  up  the  beach 
precisely  to  the  feet  of  some  stranger  hotel  guests,  who  were 
not  half  so  surprised  as  myself.  It  took  some  while  to 
learn  to  mount  the  board  without  help,  for  it  is  a  cumbrous 
and  unruly  affair  in  the  heaving  water. 

The  rising  tide  was  populous  with  Saturday  afternoon 


.   OUR  HAWAII  75 

bathers,  but  comparatively  few  women,  except  close  in- 
shore. A  fleet  of  young  kanaka  surf -boarders  hovered 
around  Ford  and  his  haole  pupils,  for  he  loves  children  and 
is  a  great  favorite  with  these.  Often,  timing  our  pro- 
pelling wave,  we  would  find  a  brown  and  smiling  cherub 
of  ten  or  so,  all  eyes  and  teeth,  helpfully  timing  the  same 
wave,  watching  with  altruistic  anxiety  lest  we  fail  and  tangle 
up  with  the  pi  telling  slice  of  hardwood.  Not  a  word  would 
he  utter  —  but  in  every  gesture  was  "See!  See!  This 
way!  It  is  easy!" 

Several  times,  on  my  own  vociferous  way,  I  was  spilled 
diagonally  adown  the  face  of  a  combing  wave,  the  board 
whirling  as  it  overturned  and  slithering  up-ended,  while  I 
swam  to  bottom  for  my  very  life,  in  fear  of  a  smash  on  the 
cranium.  And  once  I  got  it,  coming  up  wildly,  stars 
shooting  through  my  brain.  And  once  Jack's  board,  on 
which  he  had  lain  too  far  forward,  dived,  struck  bottom, 
and  flung  him  head  over  heels  in  the  most  ludicrous  somer- 
sault. His  own  head  was  struck  in  the  ensuing  mix-up 
and  we  were  able  to  compare  size  and  number  of  stars. 
Of  course,  his  stars  were  the  bigger  —  because  my  power 
of  speech  was  not  equal  to  his.  It  seems  to  us  both  that 
never  were  we  so  wet  in  all  our  lives,  as  during  those  laugh- 
ing, strenuous,  half -drowned  hours. 

Sometimes,  just  sometimes,  when  I  want  to  play  the  game 
beyond  my  known  vitality,  I  almost  wish  I  were  a  boy. 
I  do  my  best,  as  to-day ;  but  when  it  comes  to  piloting  an 
enormous  weighty  plank  out  where  the  high  surf  smokes, 
above  a  depth  of  twelve  to  fifteen  feet,  I  fear  that  no  vigor 
of  spirit  can  lend  my  scant  five-feet-two,  short  hundred- 
and-eleven,  the  needful  endurance.  Mr.  Ford  pooh-poohs  : 
"Yes,  you  can.  It's  easier  than  you  think  —  but  better 
let  your  husband  try  it  out  first." 

Late  in  the  day  there  came  to  the  tent-house  a  solid, 
stolid  sailorman  of  fifty  or  so,  giving  his  name  as  Captain 


76  OUR  HAWAII 

Rosehill,  and  asking  for  a  berth  in  the  Snark.  Jack  talked 
with  him  at  some  length,  and  finally  advised  him  to  look 
over  the  Snark  carefully  before  making  up  his  mind,  giving 
him  to  understand  that  there  is  more  than  mere  navi- 
gating to  do  aboard  so  small  a  vessel,  and  that  before  we 
are  able  to  sail  from  Hawaii  he  will  be  sure  to  find  plenty 
of  work  in  the  matter  of  making  her  ready.  Rosehill 
evidently  knows  Schwank,  for  when  that  worthy's  name 
was  mentioned,  he  gave  a  prodigious  sniff  which  died  in  a 
grunt.  The  only  time  the  man  smiled  was  at  leaving. 
Upon  inquiry,  we  find  that  his  melancholy  is  not  without 
justification,  for  beyond  discussion  he  is  "king"  of  Marcus 
Island,  a  small  guano  principality  that  he  discovered  in 
1889  somewhere  between  Bonin  Islands  and  the  Carolines. 
Jack  was  interested  in  the  facts  for  themselves,  and  also 
because  he  himself  landed  in  that  section  of  the  world  dur- 
ing his  voyage  in  the  Sophie  Sutherland,  which  made  a  call 
at  Bonin  Islands.  Through  a  mix-up  with  the  Japanese 
government,  Rosehill  was  deprived  of  indefinite  millions 
that  he  might  have  harvested  from  the  guano  deposit. 
They  say  he  knows  the  South  Seas  like  a  book,  and  is  a 
good  navigator.  Nothing  would  make  Jack  happier  than 
to  be  free  to  devote  himself  to  the  navigation  of  his  own 
boat,  for  if  there  is  one  place  above  all  others  where  he  is 
more  contentedly  at  home,  it  is  at  sea.  But  a  sailing 
master  he  must  have,  and  the  right  man  will  lift  a  world 
of  responsibility  from  his  shoulders. 

WAIKIKI,  Sunday,  June  2,  1907. 

An  eventful  day,  this,  especially  for  Jack,  who  is  in  bed 
thinking  it  over  between  groans,  eyes  puffed  shut  with  a 
strange  malady,  and  agonizing  in  a  severe  case  of  sunburn. 
I  can  sympathize  to  some  extent,  for,  in  addition  to  a 
considerable  roasting,  my  whole  body  is  racked  with  mus- 
cular quirkings  and  lameness  from  the  natatorial  gym- 


OUR  HAWAII  77 

nasties  of  the  past  forty-eight  hours.  Our  program  to- 
day began  at  ten,  with  a  delirious  hour  of  canoe  riding 
in  a  pounding  surf.  While  less  individual  boldness  is 
called  upon,  this  game  is  even  more  exciting  than  surf- 
boarding,  for  more  can  take  part  in  the  shoreward  rush. 

The  great  canoes  are  themselves  the  very  embodiment 
of  royal  barbaric  sea  spirit  —  dug  whole  out  of  hard  koa 
logs,  long,  narrow,  over  two  feet  deep,  with  very  slightly 
curved  perpendicular  sides  and  rounded  bottoms ;  furnished 
with  steadying  outriggers  on  the  left,  known  as  the  "i-a-ku" 
-  two  long  curved  timbers,  of  the  light  tough  hardwood, 
with  their  outer  ends  fastened  to  the  heavy  horizontal 
spar,  or  float,  of  wili-wili,  called  the  "a-ma."  The  hulls 
are  painted  dull,  dead  black,  and  trimmed  by  a  slightly 
in-set,  royal-yellow  inch-rail,  broadening  upward  at  each 
end  of  the  boat,  with  a  sharp  tip.  There  is  an  elegance 
of  savage  warlikeness  about  these  long  sable  shapes ;  but 
the  sole  warfare  in  this  day  and  age  is  with  Neptune,  when, 
manned  by  shining  bronze  crews,  they  breast  or  fight 
through  the  oncoming  legions  of  rearing,  trampling,  neigh- 
ing sea  cavalry. 

It  required  several  men  on  a  side  to  launch  our  forty- 
foot  canoe  across  sand  into  the  shoring  tide,  and  altogether 
eight  embarked,  vaulting  aboard  as  she  took  the  water, 
each  into  a  seat  only  just  wide  enough.  Jack  wielded  a 
paddle,  but  I  was  placed  in  the  very  bow,  where,  both  out 
and  back,  the  sharpest  thrills  are  to  be  had.  As  the  canoe 
worked  seaward  in  the  high  breaking  flood,  more  than 
once  breath  was  knocked  out  of  me  when  the  bow  lunged 
right  into  a  stiff  wall  of  green  water  just  beginning  to  crest. 
Again,  the  canoe  poised  horizontally,  at  right  angles  to  the 
springing  knife-edge  of  a  tall  wave  on  the  imminence  of 
overcurling,  and  then,  forward-half  in  midair,  plunged 
head-into  the  oily  abyss,  with  a  prodigious  slap  that  bounced 
us  into  space,  deafened  with  the  grind  of  the  shore-going 
leviathan  at  our  backs.  I  could  hear  Jack  laughing  in  the 


78  OUR  HAWAII 

abating  tumult  of  sound,  as  he  watched  me  trimming  my 
lines  so  as  to  present  the  least  possible  surface  to  the  next 
briny  onslaught.  He  knew,  despite  my  desperate  clutches 
at  the  canary  streak  on  either  hand,  and  my  uncontrolled 
noise,  that  I  was  having  the  time  of  my  life,  as,  from  his 
own  past  experience,  he  had  told  me  I  would  have. 

It  was  more  than  usually  rough,  so  that  our  brown  crew 
would  not  venture  out  as  far  as  we  had  hoped,  shaking  their 
curly  heads  like  serious  children  at  the  big  white  water 
on  the  barrier  reef.  Then  they  selected  a  likely  wave  for 
the  slide  beachward,  shouting  strange  cries  to  one  another 
that  brought  about  the  turning  of  the  stern  seaward  to  a 
low  green  mounting  hill  that  looked  half  a  mile  long  and 
ridged  higher  and  higher  to  the  burst. 

"'A  hill,  a  gentle  hill,  Green  and  of  mild  declivity.' 
.  .  .  It  is  not!"  Fred  Church  quoted  and  commented 
on  his  Byron  and  the  threatening  young  mountain,  with 
firm  hands  grasping  his  paddle,  when,  at  exactly  the  right 
ins  tant,  he  joined  the  frantic  shrill  "Hoe' I  Hoe!"  (Paddle! 
paddle  like  —  everything!)  that  sent  all  paddles  madly 
flying  to  maintain  an  equal  speed  with  the  abrupt,  emerald 
slope.  Almost  on  end,  wiki-wiki,  faster  — faster,  and  yet 
faster,  we  shot,  over  the  curl  of  white  water  behind,  above, 
overhanging,  menacing  any  laggard  crew.  Once  I  dared 
to  look  back.  Head  above  head  I  glimpsed  them  all ;  but 
never  can  fade  the  picture  of  the  last  of  all,  a  magnifi- 
cent Hawaiian  sitting  stark  in  the  stern,  hardly  breathing, 
curls  straight  back  in  the  wind,  his  biceps  bulging  to  the 
weight  of  canoe  and  water  against  the  steering  paddle,  his 
wide  brown  eyes  reflecting  all  the  responsibility  of  bring- 
ing right-side-up  to  shore  his  haole  freight. 

And  then  the  stern  settles  a  little  at  a  time,  as  the  for- 
midable seething  bulk  of  water  dissipates  upon  the  gentle 
up-slope  of  the  land  before  the  Moana,  while  dripping 
crew  and  passengers  swing  around  in  the  backwash  and 
work  out  to  repeat  the  maneuver. 


OUR  HAWAII  79 

Few  other  canoes  were  tempted  into  the  surf  to-day, 
but  we  saw  one  capsize  by  coasting  crookedly  down  a  wave. 
The  yellow  outrigger  rose  in  air,  then  disappeared  in 
crashing  white  chaos.  Everything  emerged  on  the  sleek 
back  of  the  comber,  but  the  men  were  unable  in  the  en- 
suing rough  water  to  right  the  swamped  boat.  We  lost 
sight  of  them  as  the  next  breaker  set  us  zipping  inshore, 
but  on  subsequent  trips  saw  them  swimming  slowly  in, 
towing  the  canoe  bottom-upward,  like  a  black  dead  sea 
monster,  and  apparently  making  a  picnic  of  their  disaster. 

An  hour  of  this  tense  and  tingling  recreation  left  us  sur- 
prisingly tired,  as  well  as  cold  from  the  strong  breeze  on 
wet  suits  and  skins.  Mr.  Ford,  with  a  paternal  "I-told- 
you-so"  smile  at  our  enthusiasm  over  the  canoeing,  was 
prompt  for  the  next  event  on  our  program,  which  was  a 
further  lesson  in  surf-boarding.  After  assisting  me  for  a 
time,  I  noticed  he  and  Jack  were  sending  desireful  glances 
toward  the  leaping  backs  of  Pharaoh's  Horses,  and  I  knew 
they  wanted  to  be  quit  of  the  pony  breakers  inshore  —  the 
wakine  surf,  as  the  native  swimmers  have  it,  and  manful- 
wise  ride  the  big  water.  Our  friend  had  a  thorough  pupil 
in  Jack,  who  with  characteristic  abandon  never  touched 
foot  to  bottom  in  four  broiling  hours. 

Nursing  my  own  reddened  skin  in  the  cool  tent-house, 
I  saw  a  weary  figure  dragging  its  feet  across  the  lawns, 
which  it  was  hard  to  recognize  for  Jack  until  he  came 
quite  near.  Face  and  body,  he  was  covered  with  large 
swollen  blotches,  like  hives,  and  his  mouth  and  throat 
were  closing  painfully.  Rather  against  his  wish,  I  sent 
Tochigi  to  summon  a  doctor,  for  his  condition  was  alarm- 
ing. Despite  full  knowledge  of  his  extremely  sensitive 
skin,  he  had  not  given  a  thought  during  those  four  hours, 
face-downward  on  the  board,  to  the  fact  that  under  the 
vertical  rays  of  a  tropic  sun  a  part  of  him  never  before  so 
exposed  was  being  cooked  through  and  through.  Shoulders 
and  back  of  neck  were  cruelly  grilled,  goodness  knows ;  but 


80  OUR  HAWAII 

the  really  frightful  damage  had  been  wreaked  on  the  backs 
of  his  legs,  especially  the  tender  hind-side  of  the  knee 
joints,  which  were  actually  warping  from  the  deep  burning 
so  rapidly  that  in  a  few  moments  he  could  not  stand  erect 
because  the  limbs  refused  to  straighten.  Between  us  we 
managed  to  get  him  into  bed,  and  later  on,  restless  with  the 
intolerable  pain  of  his  ruined  surfaces,  and  thinking  my 
room  might  be  cooler,  he  could  progress  there  only  on  heels 
and  palms,  face  upward.  "  Don't  let  me  laugh  —  it  hurts 
too  much,"  he  moaned  through  swollen  lips,  realizing  the 
preposterous  spectacle. 

Little  aid  could  be  rendered,  either  of  diagnosis  or  prac- 
tice, by  the  physician,  Dr.  Charles  B.  Cooper.  From  his 
six-feet-odd  of  height  he  bent  wide,  black  eyes  upon  the 
piteous  mass  on  my  bed,  that  indisputably  required  all 
known  sun-burn  remedies ;  but  the  extraordinary  swollen 
blotches  were  plainly  beyond  him.  He  had  observed  cases 
of  mouth  and  throat  swelling,  though  never  one  so  bad  as 
this,  from  fruit  poisoning  in  the  tropics ;  but  this  patient 
had  eaten  nothing  that  he  had  not  been  living  on  for  weeks. 
And  also  there  was  the  blotched  body. 

"Just  my  luck!"  this  from  the  sufferer.  "I'm  always 
running  into  something  no  one  ever  saw  or  heard  of ! 
Although  this  is  something  like  the  shingles  I  had  on  the 
Sophie  Sutherland." 

Dr.  Cooper  left  some  medicine,  and  later  his  rilled  pre- 
scription came  from  a  druggist,  to  relieve  the  torturing 
burn.  Meantime  I  kept  up  a  steady  changing  of  cool,  wet 
cloths  on  the  warped  legs,  while  Jack's  "It  can't  last  for- 
ever 1"  was  the  best  cheer  under  the  circumstances,  until 
the  blotches  began  to  subside  and  the  throat  could  swallow 
grateful  drafts  of  cold  water,  and  a  supper  of  long, 
iced  poi-cocktail  —  "Such  beneficent  stuff,"  he  dwelt  upon 
it. 

You !  All  whiteskins  who  would  learn  Ford's  rejuvenes- 
cent royal  sport,  take  warning  that  the  "particular  star" 


OUR  HAWAII  81 

which  illumes  our  world,  despite  its  insidiousness,  is  par- 
ticularly ardent  in  Hawaiian  skies. 

PEARL  LOCHS,  Tuesday,  June  6,  1907. 

Home  in  our  Dream  Harbor,  after  a  full  week  away  — 
for  of  course  Jack  could  not  return  on  Monday  as  planned. 
The  burning  hours  were  beguiled  with  cool  cloths  and  read- 
ing aloud,  Jack  taking  his  turn  when  I  grew  nervous  with 
my  own  distressed  cuticle  and  an  aching  ear  from  diving. 
Out  of  his  grip  of  varied  reading  matter,  he  had  selected 
Lilian  Bell's  "The  Under  Side  of  Things"  -I  wonder  if 
with  reference  to  his  fried-and-turned-over  condition ! 
A  Bulletin  reporter  lightened  a  half  hour  in  an  interview 
upon  our  unplotted  future  around  the  globe,  and  told  us 
that  our  erstwhile  sailing  master,  leaving  yesterday  for 
the  Coast  on  the  Sierra,  had  given  the  impression  that  he 
considered  the  Snark  unsafe. 

"He  built  her !"  was  Jack's  only  comment. 

"And  sailed  over  two  thousand  miles  in  her,"  the  news- 
paper man  grinned. 

On  Tuesday,  waiving  all  discussion,  Jack  got  into  his 
clothing,  the  operation  (not  an  unappropriate  word)  ac- 
companied by  running  commentary  on  things  as  they  were, 
which  would  be  both  interesting  and  instructive  in  a 
biographical  sense,  did  one  dare  the  editorial  censor. 
Neither  of  us  was  this  day  "admirin'  how  the  world  was 
made,"  and  my  widest  sympathy  was  with  his  fevered 
sentiments  concerning  astronomy,  geology,  the  starry 
hereafter,  mid-Pacific  watering  places  —  and  Alexander- 
Hume-Fords. 

"But  I  warned  you,  and  warned  you!"  fended  poor 
Ford,  suppressing  an  involuntary  snicker  as  the  fervid 
cripple,  now  on  his  feet,  essayed  a  step  or  two.  "And 
you're  luckier  than  I  was  the  first  time  I  got  burned  —  worse 
than  you  are  —  and  by  mistake  used  capsicum  vaseline 


82  OUR  HAWAII 

on  my  skin !  —  And  anyway,  I  really  did  think  you  had 
become  toughened  a  bit  on  your  month  at  sea." 

With  stiff -crooked  legs,  for  he  could  neither  unbend  nor 
further  bend  the  knees,  and  feet  pitched  some  twenty  inches 
apart,  Jack's  action  was  perforce  unlike  that  of  any  known 
biped.  So  enamored  did  he  become  of  the  wonder  of  it 
that  he  insisted  upon  employing  it  to  progress  to  the  lanai 
for  luncheon,  where  his  most  pitying  acquaintances  failed 
to  keep  back  their  mirth.  Be  assured  he  enjoyed  it  all 
as  much  as  they,  for  the  lessening  hurt  made  him  very 
happy.  An  hour  face-downward  on  the  beach  that  fate- 
ful afternoon  had  not  improved  my  own  carriage,  but  I 
was  not  unwilling  to  risk  it  on  a  short  trip  along  Kalakaua 
Avenue  to  the  Aquarium,  which  Jack,  from  his  memories, 
had  pronounced  a  world- wonder.  With  many  jibes  at 
his  remarkable  gait,  the  Churches  helped  him  aboard  a  car, 
and  in  the  cool  many-roomed  grotto,  built  of  quarried  coral, 
we  forgot  all  earthly  dole,  spellbound  before  the  incredible 
forms  and  colors  of  the  sentient  rainbows. 

It  is  impossible  to  communicate  any  adequate  idea  of 
these  color  organisms.  If  anything  could  be  laughably 
lovely,  any  one  of  these  would  serve :  Striped  Roman  scarf 
effects  showed  behind  the  glass  as  if  in  a  shop  window  dis- 
play ;  polka-dot  patterns  in  color  schemes  beyond  im- 
agining ;  against  the  glass  lay  figured  designs  that  manu- 
facturers would  make  no  mistake  in  copying.  And  all  were 
possessed  of  an  iridescent  quality  that  made  one  expect 
them  to  melt  into  the  shifting  greens  of  their  element, 
as  they  dimmed  in  the  farther  spaces  of  the  tanks.  But 
presently  they  would  intensify,  coming  on  larger  and 
brighter  like  marine  headlights  in  Elfland. 

One  fish  was  an  aquatic  bird-of-paradise  for  hues,  with 
a  long  spine  like  an  aigrette  springing  from  midway  of  a 
body  almost  as  round  as  a  coin  and  not  much  larger, 
with  golden-brown  beak  and  bold  black  eye.  His  name 
was  the  kihi-kihi.  The  hamaleanokuiwi  was  a  turquoise- 


OUR  HAWAII  83 

blue,  five-inch  shuttle,  terminating  in  a  peacock-blue 
wisp  of  tail,  with  fins  like  ruffles  tipped  with  stripes  of  yellow 
and  black,  and  a  long  blue  needle  for  beak.  The  little 
fins  back  and  below  its  beaded  eyes  were  tiny  azure  butter- 
flies striped  two  ways  with  purple  and  gold ;  and  on  each 
side  the  turquoise  body  a  splotch  of  opaque  gold  lay  like 
a  sunbeam.  Around  this  bright  blue  marvel  slowly  wove 
one  of  a  magenta  as  vivid,  and  half  as  long,  of  familiar 
shape  but  with  the  bulging  eye  of  a  frog  shaded  by  a 
thick  ruby  lid,  two  pale-pink  fins  shaped  like  center- 
boards,  and  a  dorsal  fin  with  five  smartly  raked  masts. 

The  kikakapu  did  not  look  his  bristly  name  at  all,  but 
was  a  shapeless  handful  of  pigments  —  pale  green  as  a 
parrot,  with  birdlike  head  of  harlequin  opal  and  parrot 
eye  of  black  and  yellow.  Half  of  the  dorsal  was  a  black- 
velvet  spot  rimmed  with  gold,  his  tail  two  shades  of  gray 
with  a  root  of  scarlet.  I  haven't  patience  to  spell  the  name 
of  an  almost  perfect  oval  of  blue  black,  with  a  flaming 
autumn  leaf  on  each  side,  a  narrow  dorsal  of  shaded  rose 
and  salmon-yellow  bearing  a  dotted  line  of  red,  and  a  gray 
and  red  flag  for  tail,  while  two  sapphire-blue  feathers  trailed 
underneath.  Next  him  flaunted  a  canary-yellow  fish  that 
had  patently  been  scissored  midlength  and  grown  a  stiff 
mauve  tail  in  the  middle  of  its  vertical  rear,  to  match  a 
mauve-velvet,  long-beaked  face.  A  canary-wing  formed 
this  one's  dorsal  fin,  and  two  absurd  back-slanted  spikes 
and  a  ribby  trailer  decorated  its  horizontal  base. 

The  opule  and  the  luahine  were  both  meant  to  be  nor- 
mally formed,  —  the  first,  speckled  on  top  like  a  mountain 
trout,  its  frills  red  and  black  and  blue,  jaw  crimson  spotted, 
with  grass-green  gills  and  tiny  gilt  fins,  and  on  its  dark  sides 
three  parallel  rows  of  larger  dots,  and  one  dropped  below, 
of  startling  blue,  each  with  an  electric  light  behind !  The 
second,  all  brown  save  for  a  scarlet  headlight  on  the  tall 
dorsal,  was  similarly  lit  up,  all  over,  fins  as  well,  the  head 
zigzagged  with  lightning  streaks  of  the  same  electric  blue. 


84  OUR  HAWAII 

The  akilolo  wore  these  cold  blue  jewels  set  on  plum  satin, 
with  electric-green  stripes  on  its  head,  crimson  and  green 
fins  and  sharply  demarked  rudder  of  bright  yellow. 

One  was  a  lovely  thing,  and  would  have  been  a  little 
heart  of  gold,  if  its  white-and-gilt  tail  had  not  transformed 
it  into  a  perfect  ace  of  spades.  Another,  modestly  shaped, 
bore  pink  fins  socketed  in  emerald  like  the  head  and  tail, 
a  yellow  stomach,  seal-brown  back,  with  three  broad  down- 
ward bands  of  the  emerald  joining  a  wide  lateral  band  of 
the  same,  decorated  in  hollow  squares  of  indigo!  I'm 
telling  you,  as  Jack  would  say.  There  were  also  dainty 
mother-of-pearl  forms,  and  gorgeous  autumnal  petals  of 
the  ocean  drifting  among  the  jeweled  swimming  things, 
with  little  rainbow  crabs  lying  on  the  bottom  of  sand  and 
shells,  among  other  crannied  creatures. 

An  imaginative  child  could  spin  unending  day  dreams 
about  these  living  pictures  in  the  cool  grottoes  of  the  Hono- 
lulu Aquarium ;  and  for  nightmares,  there  are  excellent 
specimens  of  the  octopus  family.  These  squid  we  have  on 
the  Pacific  Coast,  but  there  is  no  way  of  observing  them. 
Mr.  Potter,  the  superintendent,  said  his  were  unusually 
active  to-day,  and  we  saw  them  displaying  all  their  paces 
-a  very  useful  spectacle  for  those  who  may  venture 
among  the  more  unfrequented  coral  hummocks  at  Waikiki. 
A  wader  can  be  made  very  uncomfortable  by  their  ugly 
ability  to  attach  to  a  rock  and  a  victim  at  one  and  the  same 
time.  They  showed  their  fighting  colors  through  the  glass, 
coming  straight  at  us,  their  little  devil's-heads  set  with 
narrow  serpent-eyes  glinting  maliciously,  and  sharp  turtle- 
beaks,  all  their  tentacles  —  awful  constricting  arms  covered 
with  awful  suckers  —  cast  behind  in  the  lightning  dart. 

When  attacked,  the  squid  opens  an  "ink  bag,"  fouling 
the  water  to  the  confusion  of  its  enemy.  A  native  in  trouble 
with  one  tears  right  into  this  ink  bag  with  his  own  teeth, 
and  to  this  mortal  wound  the  pediculate  marine  dragon 
gives  up  the  ghost.  The  only  thing  about  the  squid  that 


OUR  HAWAII  85 

is  not  unpleasant,  to  say  the  mildest,  is  its  color — in 
action  a  rosy  tan ;  but  when  curled  in  the  rock  crevices, 
protective  tinting  makes  it  hard  to  detect.  Mr.  Potter 
dropped  some  tiny  crabs  into  the  tank  from  behind  the 
scenes,  which  caused  an  exhibition  not  soon  to  be  forgotten. 
The  almost  invisible  squid,  watching  with  one  bright  eye, 
unwreathed  its  eight  flexile,  trailing  limbs,  rose  swiftly, 
swooped,  and  enfolded  the  prey  as  with  a  swirl  of  net  grey 
or  veiling.  When  the  monster  presently  unwound,  the 
mites  of  crabs  had  been  entirely  absorbed. 

"And  the  Creator  sat  up  nights  inventing  that,"  Jack 
observed  with  sacrilegious  gravity,  slowly  shaking  his 
curly  poll.  The  superintendent  looked  appropriately 
startled,  but  not  unappreciative. 

This  Honolulu  Aquarium,  though  small,  is  said  to  sur- 
pass in  the  beauty  of  its  exhibit  anything  in  the  world,  not 
excepting  the  Italian ;  and  fancy  our  surprise  to  learn 
that  it  is  not  maintained  by  the  Territory,  nor  yet  by  the 
city,  existing  solely  by  the  enterprise  of  the  electric  railway 
company.  The  "colored"  fish  are  recruited  from  the 
chance  catch  in  nets  of  native  fishermen.  It  is  not  easy 
to  understand  why  Honolulu  is  lukewarm  with  regard  to 
this,  one  of  her  greatest  attractions.  Mr.  Ford  should  be 
spoken  to  about  it ! 

And  Hawaii  is  a  paradise  for  the  visiting  fisherman, 
where  can  be  hooked  anything  from  a  shark  to  small  fry 
of  various  sorts,  whether  "painted"  or  otherwise.  Among 
the  many  game  salt-water  fish  may  be  named  black  sea 
bass,  barracuda  in  schools,  albacore,  dolphin,  swordfish, 
yellow-tail,  amber  fish,  leaping  tuna  and  several  other  kinds 
of  tuna  —  all  these  fish  of  unthinkable  weight  and  size. 
And  flying  fish  may  be  picked  off  with  rifle  or  shotgun  — 
or  netted,  as  with  the  old  Hawaiians. 

Ever  keen  on  the  trail  of  Why  and  Wherefore,  Jack 
has  left  no  stone  of  research  unturned  as  to  the  cause  of  the 


86  OUR  HAWAII 

violent  swelling  that  succeeded  his  sunburning,  and  has 
finally  diagnosed  it  as  urticaria. 

Glad  are  we  to  rest  once  more  in  our  Sweet  Home,  in 
sight  of  that  bright  reminder  of  the  long  voyage  yet  to  be, 
the  Snark  and  her  unwonted  clatter  of  active  repairs.  For 
Captain  Rosehill  has  accepted  the  commission,  and  "dry 
bones  are  rattling,"  as  Jack  chuckled  a  moment  ago  from 
the  hammock.  The  sad  old  sea-dog  has  taken  hold  with 
a  vengeance,  but  professes  little  respect  for  all  the  modern 
"fol-de-rol  of  gewgaws"  that  he  found  lying  around, 
costly  labor-saving  gear,  unavailing  only  because  of  the 
ruinous  mishandling  it  received  in  the  post-earthquake 
days  of  building.  He  scoffs  any  notion  that  the  vessel 
will  refuse  to  heave  to  under  proper  conditions,  contending 
that  we  could  not  have  had  enough  wind  that  puzzling 
night  she  balked.  Standing  with  huge,  limp-hanging  arms, 
he  almost  half -smiled  at  our  big  sea  anchor  —  an  article  he 
has  always  yearned  to  possess.  Clearly  it  is  the  one  thing 
aboard  with  which  he  is  satisfied. 

Jack  finds  endless  source  of  amusement  in  his  skipper 
and  the  irrepressible  Schwank,  who,  it  seems,  once  sailed 
together.  The  experience  evidently  has  not  endeared  one 
to  the  other,  and  all  our  gravity  is  taxed  when  the  pair  dis- 
play their  divergent  ways  of  showing  mutual  dislike  and  con- 
tempt. Rosehill  is  a  man  of  few  words ;  but  words  are  not 
needed  when  Schwank's  name  is  mentioned.  The  sound 
of  that  raucous  proper  noun  curdles  the  old  sailor's  sober 
and  asymmetrical  features.  On  the  other  hand,  Schwank 
is  voluble  and  expressive.  Never  in  his  wildest  tales  of 
that  ill-starred  voyage  with  Rosehill  has  he  hinted  that 
he  was  ship's  cook  under  Rosehill.  When  he  recounts  how 
the  vessel  was  wrecked,  one  would  conclude  that  Schwank 
had  been  in  command  instead  of  the  other,  and,  in  giving 
this  intentional  twist  to  verity,  he  loses  sight  of  the  fact 
that  it  looks  much  as  if  he,  Schwank,  must  be  responsible 
for  the  loss.  "I  told  Rosehill  to  brace  up/'  he  will  roar 


OUR   HAWAII  87 

pompously,  throwing  a  mighty  chest.  He  always  appears 
about  to  rise  triumphant  from  the  solid  earth.  Nor  has 
he  lost  all  of  his  piratical  tendencies.  From  his  acre  of 
fruitful  soil,  he  sells  produce  at  extortionate  prices.  And 
he  is  clever  enough  to  vend  these  commodities  through  his 
most  beautiful  offspring.  When  Maria-of-the-Seraph-Smile 
or  Ysabel-of-the-Divine-Gaze  stands  before  me  in  the  very 
artistry  of  colorful  tatters,  proffering  a  scraggly  pineapple 
or  an  abortive  tomato,  valued  at  Israelitic  sums,  they  are 
not  to  be  gainsaid.  The  pleasure  is  mine  to  be  robbed. 

Martin  finds  quite  a  crowd  to  cook  for,  although  he  re- 
ports that  the  captain  eats  little,  and  acts  as  if  he  thinks 
less  of  the  cook.  We  have  an  inkling  that  the  old  man 
nurses  a  crusty  disposition,  for  the  boys  have  already 
metamorphosed  his  pretty  name  into  "Raisehell"  —  not 
within  his  hearing,  I'll  warrant.  Soon  or  late  there  is 
going  to  be  a  clash  with  Schwank  —  that  is  plain.  "  They're 
too  good  to  be  true  —  they're  classic  sailormen.  May 
the  best  man  win !  Rosehill  has  the  hiring  and  firing  to 
do  now,"  and  Jack  complacently  lights  a  cigarette  —  he 
has  again  taught  himself  to  smoke  —  and  listens  to  the 
welcome  music  of  orders  and  prompt  response  to  same 
that  come  on  the  shoreward  breeze. 

PEARL  LOCHS,  Friday,  June  7,  1907. 

When  you  come  to  Hawaii,  do  not  fail  to  visit  one  of  the 
big  sugar  plantations,  to  see  the  working  of  this  foremost 
industry  of  the  Territory,  for  nowhere  in  the  world  has  it 
been  brought  to  such  perfection.  Mr.  Ford  had  arranged  a 
trip  to  the  Ewa  Plantation,  a  short  distance  by  rail  south- 
west of  the  Lochs.  With  him  came  an  interesting  young 
South  African  millionaire,  who  was  much  more  bent  upon 
discussing  socialism  with  Jack  London  than  inspecting  sugar 
mills  —  although  in  the  varied  nationalities  among  the 
laborers  he  might  find  a  rare  mine  of  sociological  data. 


88  OUR  HAWAII 

The  railroad  traverses  a  level  stretch  of  country  dotted 
with  pretty  villages  peopled  by  imported  human  breeds. 
In  my  mind's  eye  lingers  one  wee  hamlet  like  a  jewel  in  the 
sun  —  a  group  of  little  Portuguese  shacks  covered  with 
brilliant  flowering  vines  and  hedged  with  scarlet  hibiscus, 
all  imaged  in  a  still  stream  that  brimmed  even  with  its 
green  banks.  Not  for  nothing  were  these  sunny-blooded 
children  of  Portugal  blessed  with  wide  and  beautiful  eyes ; 
for  they  can  see  no  virtue  in  a  dwelling  that  is  not  sur- 
rounded and  entwined  with  living  color.  No  matter  how 
squalid  their  circumstance,  they  do  not  rest  until  growing 
things  begin  to  weave  a  covering  of  beauty. 

Our  station  lay  in  the  center  of  the  Plantation,  which 
embraces  nearly  50,000  acres.  It  was  the  far-sighted 
father  of  Princess  Kawananakoa,  Mr.  Campbell,  who  ten 
years  ago  bought  this  property  for  one  dollar  an  acre. 
Last  year  its  output  of  sugar  was  over  29,000  tons.  One 
alone  of  the  underground  pumping  plants  which  we  wan- 
dered through,  cost  $180,000;  and  every  day  70,000,000 
gallons  of  water  are  pumped  on  this  Plantation. 

Mr.  H.  H.  Renton,  the  manager,  devoted  his  day  to  our 
party.  It  must  be  more  or  less  of  a  satisfaction,  however, 
to  a  man  of  his  patent  capabilities,  lord  over  the  compli- 
cated affairs  of  such  a  project  and  its  horde  of  workers,  to 
display  his  achievement  to  men  who  can  comprehend  its 
enormousness  and  possibilities. 

In  comfortable  chairs  on  a  flat  car  drawn  by  a  small 
locomotive,  over  a  network  of  tracks  that  intersect  the 
property,  we  rode  from  point  to  point,  meanwhile  simmer- 
ing gently  in  the  moist  hot  air  thick  with  odor  of  growing 
cane,  or,  near  the  huge  mill,  of  sugar  in  the  making.  The 
land  reminded  us  of  Southern  California  in  springtime,  with 
tree  arbored  roads  and  flower-drifted  banks  and  fine  irri- 
gating ditches.  We  want  to  spend  a  day  on  horseback  at 
Ewa,  in  the  lanes  and  byways  with  their  lovely  vistas. 
Judging  from  Mr.  Renton's  own  leisurely  enjoyment  of 


OUR  HAWAII  89 

the  occasion  and  frequent  halting  of  the  car  that  we  might 
gather  wildflowers  and  wild  red  tomatoes  the  size  of  cran- 
berries, one  would  not  have  dreamed  how  busy  a  man  he  is. 

It  is  hard,  in  the  peaceful  heart  of  this  agricultural 
prospect,  to  realize  that  not  long  ago  it  was  a  place  dark 
with  pain  and  blood  and  terror.  For  here,  a  hundred  and 
eleven  years  ago,  Kamehameha  the  Great  dedicated  a 
temple,  heiau,  with  human  sacrifices,  preparatory  to 
sailing  for  Kauai  on  conquest  bent. 

Sugar  cane  is  classified  as  a  "  giant  perennial  grass,"  but, 
unlike  most  members  of  the  grass  family,  has  solid  stems, 
and  grows  from  eight  to  twenty  feet  high.  The  origin  of 
cane  in  these  islands  is  unknown,  although  it  is  thought 
to  have  been  introduced  from  the  South  Sea  Islands  by 
early  native  navigators  in  their  questing  canoes.  It  was 
used  as  an  article  of  diet  at  the  time  white  men  first  set 
foot  in  Hawaii,  but  not  made  into  sugar  until  about  1828 ; 
and  less  than  a  decade  afterward  the  first  exportation  of 
sugar  was  shipped.  Primitive  stone  rollers  pressed  out 
the  sweet  juice,  which  was  boiled  in  crude  iron  vessels. 
Present-day  processes  have  been  brought  to  a  high  state 
of  scientific  excellence,  and  probably  no  plant  in  the  world 
has  been  so  exhaustively  exploited.  The  red  lava  soil, 
decomposed  through  the  ages,  has  been  found  through 
experimentation  to  be  the  most  productive,  and  the  irri- 
gation scheme  of  one  of  these  large  plantations,  with  its 
artesian  wells  and  mountain  reservoirs  whence  water  is 
carried  great  distances,  is  a  colossal  feat  of  engineering. 

A  man  once  wrote  that  agriculture  in  the  tropics  consisted 
of  not  hindering  the  growth  of  things.  But  the  raising 
and  converting  into  sugar  of  these  vast  areas  of  rustling 
sugar-in-the-stem  is  not  such  smooth  luck.  He  who 
would  manufacture  sugar  has  many  formidable  if  infini- 
tesimal foes  to  success,  among  which  Mr.  Renton  named  the 
nimble  leaf  hopper,  the  cane  borer,  the  leaf  roller,  the  mole 
cricket,  the  mealy  bug,  the  cypress  girdler,  and  the  Olinda 


9o  OUR  HAWAII 

bug.  To  discover  the  natural  enemies  of  these  pests  re- 
quires an  able  corps  of  entomologists  seeking  over  the 
face  of  the  globe,  as  well  as  working  sedulously  in  the 
Experiment  Station  in  Honolulu. 

The  mill  itself,  with  its  enormous  processes,  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  describe  further  than  to  assure  you  that  it  is  a 
place  of  breathless  interest  and  wonder.  One  sees  and 
tastes  the  sugar  in  its  successive  phases  of  manufacture, 
up  to  the  point  where  it  is  shipped  to  the  States  for  the 
last  stage  of  refining. 

And  more  absorbing  than  these  technicalities  of  the 
Plantation  were  the  human  races  represented  among  the 
workers  who  live  and  labor,  are  born,  are  married,  and  die 
within  its  confines.  Through  a  bewilder  of  foreign  villages 
we  wandered  on  foot  —  Japanese,  Chinese,  Portuguese, 
Norwegian,  Spanish,  Swedish,  Korean ;  even  the  Russians 
were  here  but  lately.  Porto  Ricans  were  tested,  but  proved 
a  bad  lot,  always  ready  with  a  knife  from  behind.  One 
cannot  fail  to  note  the  scarcity  of  Hawaiian  laborers  —  and 
rejoice  in  it,  for  they  are  proud  and  free  creatures,  and  it 
would  seem  pity  to  bind  them  on  their  own  soil.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  is  no  gainsaying  that  they  are  capable 
toilers  when  they  will.  Indeed,  it  is  said  that  they  accom- 
plish twice  the  work  that  a  Japanese  is  willing  to  do  in  a  day ; 
but  when  pay  day  comes,  the  Hawaiian  is  likely  not  to  ap- 
pear again  until  all  his  money  is  gloriously  squandered.  He 
is  strong  and  trustworthy,  and  makes  an  excellent  overseer, 
or  luna,  as  well  as  teacher ;  for  he  is  not  merely  imitative, 
but  intelligent  in  applying  what  he  has  learned. 

Mr.  Renton  led  us  into  schools  and  kindergartens  main- 
tained for  the  scores  of  children,  and  presided  over  for  the 
most  part  by  white  women.  In  one  room  we  found  a 
Japanese-Hawaiian  teacher  —  a  sweet  and  maidenly  young 
thing,  her  Nipponese  strain  lending  an  elusive  delicacy  to 
the  round  warm  native  features.  In  faultless  English  she 
explained  the  duties  of  her  schoolroom,  showing  great  pride 


OUR  HAWAII  91 

in  a  sewing  class  then  in  session,  and  pointing  through  the 
window  to  where  the  boys  of  her  class  could  be  seen  putting 
the  yard  to  rights. 

I  thought  we  could  never  leave  the  kindergartens,  with 
their  engaging  babies  of  endless  colors  and  variety  of 
lineaments,  pure  types  and  crossbred.  Most  beautiful 
of  all  were  the  Portuguese,  with  only  one  drawback  to 
their  childish  charm  —  the  grave  maturity  of  their  faces. 
/  Bella,  however,  two-years- tiny,  golden-eyed  and  gold- 
tawny  of  skin,  forgot  her  temperamental  soberness  and 
coquetted  shamelessly  from  her  absurd  chair  in  the  circle 
on  the  bright  floor,  when  she  should  have  been  attending 
to  Teacher.  But  even  Bella  came  to  grief.  Like  some 
other  coquettes  she  was  winningly  familiar  at  a  distance; 
and  when  I  tried  to  cultivate  a  closer  acquaintance  with 
the  young  pomegranate  blossom,  and  take  a  picture  of 
her  loveliness,  she  fell  victim  to  a  panic  of  embarrassment 
and  terror  that  ended  in  violent  weeping  in  Teacher's  lap. 

Homeward  bound,  it  seemed  as  if  we  had  been  transported 
to  and  from  a  foreign  land  for  the  day,  although  what  land 
was  the  problem,  in  view  of  the  manifold  types  we  had 
walked  among. 

Once  more  within  our  red  wicket,  we  found  Gene  just 
arrived  from  the  Coast  steamer,  and  were  informed  by  the 
evening  paper  that  he  was  to  accompany  the  Snark  voyage 
for  the  purpose  of  illustrating  Jack  London's  books !  — 
If  only  he  will  illustrate  that  he  can  take  care  of  the  engines, 
he  will  do  more  for  Jack  than  could  the  best  black-and-white 
artist  who  ever  drew. 

In  the  soft  black  evening,  some  of  our  neighbors  drifted 
across  the  yielding  turf  under  the  ancient  trees,  the  women 
taking  form  in  the  velvet  dark  like  tall  spirit  vestals 
trailing  dim  draperies  and  swirling  incense.  We  lay  out 
in  the  cool  grass,  the  lighted  ends  of  our  scented  punks 
flitting  and  darting  like  fireflies,  and  listened  to  Peer  Gynt 
from  the  Victor  indoors,  and  Mascagni's  orchestral  para- 


92  OUR  HAWAII 

discs  of  sound,  Patti's  rippling  treble,  and  Emma  Eames's 
clear  fluting  of  "  Still  as  the  Night,"  floating  upward  to 
the  sighing  obligate  of  a  rising  wind  from  across  the 
rustling  reef-waters. 

Sweet  land  of  palms  and  peace,  love  and  song  —  and 
yet,  those  who  knew  her  in  days  gone  by  would  walk  sadly 
now  in  remembered  haunts.  Old  faces  are  missing,  and 
faces  resembling  them  are  few.  The  Hawaii  of  yesterday 
passes,  and  it  makes  even  the  stranger  very  pensive  to  see 
the  changing.  To  one  who  views  her  from  the  height  of 
his  heart,  a  bright  commercial  future  is  cold  compensation 
for  the  irreplaceable  loss  of  the  old  Hawaii. 

PEARL  LOCHS,  Tuesday,  June  n,  1907. 

A  bit  of  real  Hawaii  was  ours  last  night  —  Hawaii  as  she 
is,  with  more  than  a  trace  of  what  she  has  been.  It  came 
about  through  an  invitation  from  one  of  our  neighbors, 
Mr.  Moore,  who  owns  the  cemetery  near  Pearl  City,  to  ac- 
company his  wife  and  himself  to  a  native  luau  (loo-ah-oo 
—  quickly,  loo-ow),  meaning  feast.  We  four  had  the  honor 
of  being  the  only  white  guests,  for  in  these  latter  days  the 
natives  are  chary  of  including  foreigners  in  their  more  in- 
timate entertainments.  But  for  Mr.  Moore's  confidential 
and  sympathetic  relation  toward  them,  nothing  would 
have  induced  them  to  consent  to  our  intrusion. 

The  feast  was  a  sort  of  "  benefit,"  given  at  the  christen- 
ing of  the  baby  of  one  of  Mr.  Moore's  men,  one  "Willie," 
this  being  a  familiar  custom  among  the  people.  Mr.  Willie 
and  his  pretty,  giggly  wife  were  in  a  small  fine  frenzy  of 
hospitality  and  embarrassment  at  receiving  a  man  who 
writes  books,  and  ran  out  to  the  gate  calling  "Come  in! 
Come  in!  Come  in!"  in  rapid  sweet  staccato. 

We  should  have  preferred  to  remain  outdoors  in  their 
garden  inclosure,  which  was  decorated  with  palm  fronds 
and  flowers.  But  we  were  ushered  to  the  cottage,  where  one 


OUR  HAWAII  93 

glance  into  the  hot  little  parlor,  fainting  with  heavy-scented 
bouquets,  every  window  sealed  tight  as  if  in  a  Maine 
winter,  taught  us  that  it  was  the  pride  of  their  simple,  gen- 
erous lives,  with  its  neat  furniture  and  immaculate  "  tidies  " 
on  chair,  sofa,  and  exact  center-table.  Head  and  neck 
and  shoulders,  we  were  garlanded  with  ropes  of  buff 
ginger  blossoms  twined  with  maile,  and  sat  around  straight- 
backed  in  delighted  discomfort,  praying  for  fans.  Ad- 
miring unstintedly  the  handsome  slumbering  infant  who 
was  the  object  and  beneficiary  of  all  the  festival,  we  strove 
the  while  to  express  to  our  host  and  hostess  how  glad  and 
proud  we  felt  to  be  with  them. 

From  the  cool  twilight  lanai  floated  in  the  most 
bewitching,  sleepy,  sensuous  music,  rippled  through  with 
gurgles  of  lazy  laughter.  Presently,  left  to  wander  at  will, 
whom  should  we  discover  in  the  happy  huddle  of  musicians 
but  Madame  Alapai  herself,  not  at  all  the  grand  prima  of 
her  Prince's  gardens,  but  a  warm,  benevolent,  smiling 
wahine,  robed  simply  like  all  the  rest  in  spotless  white 
holoku,  and  unaffectedly  ready,  once  her  sudden,  laughing 
bashfulness  was  conquered,  to  warble  anything  and  every- 
thing she  knew. 

The  coyness  of  these  winsome  brown  women  is  only  skin 
deep,  for  to  smiles  and  sincerity  they  warm  and  unfold 
like  their  own  tropic  blossoms  to  the  morning  sun.  De- 
liciously  they  laugh  at  everything  or  nothing,  with  an  aban- 
don that  does  not  tire,  but  draws  the  becharmed  malihini 
fervently  to  wish  he  were  one  of  them  for  the  nonce  —  a 
product  of  sunshine  and  dew  and  affection,  without  painful 
responsibility,  with  no  care  for  the  moment  of  aught  but 
the  living,  loving  present. 

Madame  Alapai  accompanied  the  first  American  tour  of 
the  Royal  Hawaiian  Band,  and  the  story  runs  that  she 
was  prepared  to  go  on  the  second,  but  her  husband,  fool- 
ishly jealous  of  her  successes  and  advantages,  decided  he 
needed  a  change  of  air  and  scene,  and  made  the  manager 


94  OUR   HAWAII 

of  his  song-bird  a  proposition  the  prompt  rejection  of 
which  cost  the  band  its  prima  donna.  This  proposition 
was  that  he  travel  with  the  troupe  and  be  paid  a  salary  for 
the  honor  of  his  mere  company,  since  he  possessed  no 
marketable  talent.  It  seemed  sufficient  to  his  limited  vision 
that  he  should  allow  his  wife  to  earn  her  salary.  Be  it 
credited  the  amiable  lady  that  the  facts  were  made  public 
without  her  assistance,  for  she  remains  guiltless  of  shaming 
her  life-companion  by  ridicule  or  criticism.  When  asked 
why  she  did  not  go  to  the  Coast  the  second  time,  she  re- 
plies, with  a  slightly  lofty  air  that  is  without  offense, 
what  of  its  childlikeness :  "Oh,  they  wanted  me  to  go,  but  I 
refused." 

She  sang  for  us  without  reserve,  out  of  her  very  good 
repertory.  Her  voice  is  remarkable,  and  I  never  heard 
another  of  its  kind,  for  it  is  more  like  a  stringed  instrument 
than  anything  we  can  think  of  —  metallic,  but  sweetly  so, 
pure  and  true  as  a  lark's,  with  falls  and  slurs  that  are  in- 
describably musical  and  human.  The  love-eyed  men  and 
women  lounging  about  her  with  their  guitars  and  ukuleles, 
garlanded  with  drooping  roses  and  carnations  and  ginger, 
were  commendably  vain  of  showing  off  their  first  singer 
in  the  land,  and  thrummed  their  loveliest  to  her  every  song. 
None  can  touch  strings  as  do  these  people.  Their  fingers 
bestow  caresses  to  which  wood  and  steel  and  cord  become 
sentient  and  tremulously  responsive. 

The  ukulele  is  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world  —  the 
petite  guitar-shape,  with  its  four  slender  strings,  that 
seems  a  part  of  the  native  at  every  merrymaking.  It  hailed 
originally  from  Portugal,  but  one  seldom  remembers  this, 
so  native  has  it  become  to  the  Islands.  Primitive  Ha- 
waiians  played  on  a  crude  little  affair  that  was  a  mere 
stick  from  the  wood  of  the  ulei ,  a  sturdy  flowering  indigenous 
shrub.  The  tuneful  stick  was  cut  eighteen  or  twenty  inches 
long  and  three  or  four  wide,  strung  across  with  goat-gut, 
and  was  held  in  the  teeth  like  a  Jew's-harp,  while  the 


OUR  HAWAII  95 

strings  were  swept  with  a  fine  grass-straw.  Lovers  thus 
whispered  through  their  teeth  an  understood  language  of 
longing  and  trysting,  the  light  wood  vibrating  the  voice 
to  some  distance  in  the  still  night. 

From  temporary  arbors  broke  the  clatter  of  busy  wahines 
making  ready  the  feast,  and  new  guests  laughed  their  way 
into  the  garden.  Our  nostrils  twitched  to  unknown  but 
appetizing  odors.  We  expected  as  a  matter  of  course  that 
we  should  sit  cross-legged  on  grass-mats  while  eating,  and 
were  disappointed  to  find  a  table  prepared  for  the  more 
distinguished  of  the  company.  At  least  I  was  disappointed ; 
and  Jack  did  not  dare  say  he  was  glad  of  the  white-man's 
chair,  but  chuckled  when  I  caught  his  eye  from  where  he 
sat  across  the  narrow  board  with  Madame  Alapai.  Jack's 
friends  know  well  his  way  of  speaking  of  his  "  broken  knees," 
or  wrists,  or  ankles ;  for,  despite  his  glorious  physique  — 
deep  chest  and  well-muscled  shoulders  and  limbs  —  his 
hands  and  feet  are  small,  and  his  small-boned  frame  has  ill 
withstood  the  severe  strain  put  upon  it  in  his  youth,  on  sea 
and  plain,  river  and  lake  and  mountain  —  to  say  nothing  of 
railroad,  in  his  tramping  days.  Consequently,  he  cannot 
tie  himself  into  convenient  knots  or  roll  into  bundles  as  can 
I,  and  an  hour  on  floor  or  ground,  no  matter  how  cushioned 
with  banana  and  coconut  leaves,  where  he  must  sit  cramp- 
legged,  or  crouch,  is  little  short  of  agonizing. 

And  the  luau !  At  every  place  was  a  heap  of  food  so 
attractive  that  one  did  not  know  which  mysterious  packet 
to  open  first.  Each  had  at  least  a  quart  of  poi,  of  the  ap- 
proved royal-pink  tint,  in  a  big  shiny  goblet  carved  from 
a  coconut  thinned  and  polished  and  scalloped  around  the 
brim,  and  this  substance  as  usual  formed  the  piece  de  re- 
sistance. There  are  varying  consistencies  of  poi.  The 
"one-finger"  poi  is  thick  enough  to  admit  of  a  sufficient 
mouthful  being  twirled  at  one  twirl  upon  the  forefinger ; 
two-fingered  poi  is  thinner,  requiring  two  digits  to  carry 
the  required  portion.  I  do  not  know  whether  or  not 


96  OUR  HAWAII 

three-fingered  poi  is  ever  exceeded ;  but  if  it  is,  I  am  sure 
no  true  Hawaiian  or  kamaaina  would  hesitate  to  apply  his 
whole  fist  to  it. 

It  appeared  etiquette  to  sample  every  delicacy  forth- 
with, rather  than  to  finish  any  one  or  two  until  all  had  been 
tasted.  And  we  depended  solely  upon  our  fingers  in  place 
of  forks  and  spoons.  A  twist  of  poi  on  the  forefinger  is 
conveyed  neatly  to  the  lips,  followed  by  a  pinch  of  salt 
salmon,  for  seasoning,  or  of  hot  roast  fish  or  beef  or  fowl 
steaming  in  freshly  opened  leaf -wrappings ;  for  this  is  the 
excellent  way  roast  foods  are  prepared,  then  laid  in  the 
ground  among  heated  stones,  and  covered  with  earth. 
Thus  none  of  the  essential  flavor  is  liberated  until  the 
clean  hot  leaves  of  the  ti-plant,  or  the  canna  in  absence 
of  the  ti,  are  removed  at  table. 

There  was  also  chicken  stewed  in  coconut  milk,  sweet 
and  tasty,  and,  for  relishes,  outlandish  forms  of  sea  life, 
particularly  the  opihis  (o-pe'hees),  salt  and  savory, 
which  we  think  we  might  come  to  prefer  to  raw  oysters. 
Mullet  is  eaten  raw,  cut  in  tempting  little  gray  cubes  and 
dusted  with  native  coarse  red  salt ;  but  while  Jack  pro- 
nounced it  one  of  his  favorite  articles  of  diet  henceforth 
whenever  obtainable,  I  could  not  quite  make  the  experi- 
ment. I  may  in  time  acquire  a  liking  for  well-seasoned 
raw  fish,  which  in  all  logic  is  less  offensive  to  the  mind  than 
live  raw  oysters  and  razorback  clams;  but  fairly  certain 
am  I  that  never  shall  I  assimilate  ake  (ah-kay)  —  which 
is  raw  liver  and  chile  peppers,  and  a  pet  dish  here. 

Some  small  clams,  alamihi,  were  very  good,  but  I  moved 
askance  at  the  pinkish  round  tidbits  from  squid  tentacles, 
although  my  lord  and  master  smacked  his  lips  over  them 
and  urged  me  on.  I  contented  myself  with  little  parboiled 
crabs  and  lobsters. 

One  toothsome  accompaniment  to  a  Hawaiian  meal  is 
the  kukui,  or  candlenut,  the  meat  of  which  is  baked  and 
broken  up  fine,  and  mixed  with  native  salt.  Pinches  of 


(i)  Seen  from    Nuuanu  Pali:    Jack   London,   Lorrin   A.   Thurston,   J.   P.   Cooke. 
(2)  The  Sudden  Vision.     (3)  The  Mirrored  Mountains.     (Painting  by  Hitchcock.) 


OUR  HAWAII  97 

this  relish  are  eaten  with  poi  and  other  viands,  and  it  is 
sometimes  stirred  in  to  season  a  mess  of  raw  mullet.  The 
kukui  tree,  a  comparatively  recent  introduction  from  the 
South  Seas,  has  nearly  as  many  uses  as  the  coconut  palm, 
for  aside  from  the  gustatory  excellence  of  its  nut,  a  gum 
from  the  bark  is  valuable,  and  a  dye  found  in  the  shell  of 
the  nut  was  formerly  used  to  paint  the  intricate  patterns 
of  the  tapa  that  served  for  clothing.  This  dye  also  formed 
a  good  waterproofing  for  tapa  cloaks,  and  with  it  tattoo 
artists  drew  fashionable  designs  into  the  flesh  of  their 
patrons,  who  also  rubbed  their  bodies  with  oil  pressed 
from  the  nut,  especially  in  making  them  slippery  for 
wrestling  and  fighting. 

For  the  drinking  there  was  choice  of  a  mild  beer  and 
"pop"  (soda-water  of  various  colors),  and  coconut  water  in 
the  shell;  and  for  dessert,  the  not  unpleasant  anti-climax 
of  good  old  vanilla  ice  cream  to  remind  us  that  Hawaii 
has  long  been  in  the  grasp  of  Jack's  " inevitable  white  man." 

And  then  the  dancing.  Mr.  Moore  had  promised  us  a 
hula;  but  a  hula,  except  by  professional  dancers,  is  more 
easily  promised  than  delivered.  The  native  must  be  in 
the  precise  right  humor  of  acquiescence  before  any  per- 
formance is  forthcoming  for  the  malihini.  Our  pleasant 
task  was  to  overcome  the  panicky  shyness  that  whelmed 
both  men  and  wahines  when  we  coaxed  them  to  show  their 
paces.  Few,  very  likely,  had  ever  danced  before  strangers. 
Indeed,  for  the  most  part,  the  hula  is  forbidden  by  law. 
And  the  majority  of  these  were  simple  rural  folk  with  a 
terror  of  possible  wrong-doing.  I  think  the  Hawaiians  are 
quick  to  detect  a  meretricious  gayety  or  any  patronizing, 
overdone  familiarity ;  and  to  make  them  feel  one's  genuine 
interest  in  their  customs  is  the  only  means  by  which  to 
establish  a  basis  of  social  intercourse.  Left  to  themselves, 
they  will  dance  anywhere  at  any  time.  Tochigi  witnessed 
his  first  hula  on  Toby's  train !  He  did  not  comment  upon 
it;  but  after  seeing  Americans  dance,  each  couple  fol- 


98  OUR  HAWAII 

lowing  its  own  method,  he  respectfully  observed  that  he 
thought  we  danced  more  for  our  own  pleasure  than  for  that 
of  onlookers. 

At  length  a  bolder  or  more  persuadable  spirit,  yearning 
to  express  the  real  general  desire  to  please,  broke  through 
the  crust  of  reserve  and  began  a  series  of  body  convolutions 
to  the  endless  two-step  measure  of  guitars  and  ukuleles 
that  had  throbbed  in  a  leafy  corner  of  the  grass  shelter 
during  the  luau. 

Arch  faces  lighted,  hands  clapped  and  feet  kept  time, 
eyes  and  teeth  flashed  in  the  dim  light  of  lanterns  and 
lamps,  and  flower-burdened  shoulders  swung  involuntarily 
to  the  irresistible  rhythm.  One  after  another  added  the 
music  of  his  throat  to  an  old  hula  that  has  never  seen 
printer's  ink,  while  the  violin  threnody  of  the  Alapai  raised 
the  plaintive,  half-savage  lilt  to  something  incommunicably 
high  and  haunting. 

Jack  seemed  in  a  trance,  his  eyes  like  stars,  while  his 
broad  shoulders  swayed  to  the  measure.  Discovering  my 
regard,  caught  in  his  emotion  of  delight  in  this  pregnant 
folk  dance  and  song,  he  did  not  smile,  but  half-veiled  his 
eyes  as  he  laid  a  hand  on  mine  in  token  of  acknowledgment 
of  my  comprehension  of  his  deep  mood.  For  in  every 
manifestation  of  human  life,  he  goes  down  into  the  tie  ribs 
of  racial  development,  as  if  in  eternal  quest  to  connect 
up  the  abysmal  past  with  the  palpable  present. 

A  pause,  full  of  murmurs  and  low  laughter,  then  a  strap- 
ping young  wahine  with  the  profile  of  Diana  seized  an  old 
guitar,  and  with  a  shout  to  another  girl  to  get  on  her 
feet,  leaned  over  and  swept  the  strings  masterfully  with 
the  backs  of  her  fingers,  at  the  same  time  setting  up  a 
wanton,  thrilling  hula  song  that  was  a  love  cry  in  the 
starlight,  each  repeated  phrase  ending  in  a  fainting,  croon- 
ing, tremulous  falsetto  which  trailed  off  into  a  vanishing 
wisp  of  sound.  She  could  not  sit  quietly,  but  swung  her 
body  and  lissom  limbs  in  rhythm  like  a  wild  thing  pos- 


OUR   HAWAII  99 

sessed,  seeming  to  galvanize  the  dancers  by  sheer  force  of 
will,  for  one  by  one  they  sprang  to  the  bidding  of  her 
voice  and  magnetic  fingers,  into  the  flickering  light  where 
they  swayed  and  bent  and  undulated  like  mad  sweet  nymphs 
and  fauns.  Now  and  again  a  brown  sprite  separated  from 
the  moving  group,  and  came  to  dance  before  the  haole  guests, 
the  dance  a  provocation  to  join  the  revelry.  Sometimes 
the  love  appeal  was  unmistakable,  accompanied  by  sing- 
ing words  we  wotted  not  of,  but  which  were  the  cause  of 
much  good-natured  merriment  from  the  others.  Then  sud- 
denly the  performer  would  become  impersonal  in  face  and 
gesture,  and  melt  back  into  the  weaving  group. 

After  a  while  the  dancing  lagged,  and  we  felt  it  was 
time  for  us  to  relieve  these  kind  people  of  our  more  or  less 
restraining  presence.  They  had  done  so  much,  and  to 
wear  out  such  welcome  would  have  been  a  crime  against 
good  heart  and  manners. 

Having  neglected  to  ask  the  obliging  Tony  to  wait  his 
dummy  for  our  returning,  down  the  track  we  footed,  lis- 
tening to  small  noises  of  the  night,  among  which  could  be 
detected  the  sighing  of  water  buffalo,  those  grotesque  gray 
shapes  that  patiently  toil  by  day  in  the  rice  fields. 

PEARL  LOCHS,  Friday,  June  14,  1907. 

Eleven  days  after  Jack's  broiling  at  Waikiki,  yesterday  the 
largest  blisters  began  forming  on  his  scarlet  limbs  —  rising 
and  running  into  one  another  until  a  combined  blister  would 
be  a  foot  long.  His  interest  in  the  phenomenon  helps  him 
pass  the  irritating  hours.  I  shall  be  happy  indeed  for  both 
our  sakes  when  he  is  once  more  comfortable,  for  his  condi- 
tion keeps  me  in  a  nervous  shudder  of  sympathy.  But 
time  slips  by  very  entertainingly,  with  a  heated  rubber  of 
cribbage  mornings  after  breakfast  of  papaia  and  coffee, 
and  hot  crabs  which  Jack,  in  a  reclining  chair  on  the  ter- 
race, watches  his  industrious  fish-wife  pull  in  from  the 


ioo  OUR  HAWAII 

jetty.  Then  we  read  aloud  until  work  time,  just  now  hav- 
ing finished  Brand  Whitlock's  "The  Turn  of  the  Balance," 
and  begun  on  a  course  of  George  Moore's  novels. 

At  lunch  to-day  Miss  Johnson  introduced  us  to  a  girl 
friend  from  Maine,  and  it  was  a  unique  experience  to  sit 
in  the  hot-house  air,  gazing  out  upon  the  hot-house  vege- 
tation, the  while  we  conversed  in  "down-east"  colloqui- 
alisms, among  other  incidents  recalling  one  when  Jack  and 
I,  on  our  honeymoon,  drove  for  the  first  time  in  a  cab  on 
runners  over  the  crackling  streets  of  Bangor  after  a  freeze- 
up.  "Did  you  see  her  jump  at  the  sound  of  that  falling 
leaf!"  Jack  laughed  on  the  way  home,  for  the  young  lady 
from  Maine  had  been  not  the  only  one  startled  when  a 
twenty-foot  frond  let  go  its  parent  palm  and  crashed  to 
earth. 

Our  captain  of  the  roseate  name  is  painting  the  Snark, 
and  she  floats,  a  boat  of  white  enamel,  in  the  still  blue  and 
silver  of  the  morning  flood,  while  for  frame  to  the  fair  pic- 
ture a  painted  double-rainbow  overarches,  flinging  the 
misty  fringes  of  its  ends  in  our  enraptured  faces.  From 
the  shell-pink  dawn,  through  the  green  and  golden  day,  to 
sunset  and  purple  twilight  and  starshine,  we  move  in  beauty. 
"What  a  lot  of  people  must  have  been  shanghaied  here  by 
their  own  desire!"  Jack  ruminates.  And  truly,  Hawaii 
is  sufficient  excuse  for  never  going  home. 

Mr.  Scott,  of  the  Iron  Works,  sailed  over  from  Honolulu 
last  Sunday  in  his  fast  yacht,  the  Kamehameha,  and  she 
was  a  lovely  sight  slanting  about  on  the  crisp  water  in  a 
fresh  whiff  of  wind,  her  owner  doing  some  fancy  sailing 
around  the  Snark,  apparently  trying  to  see  how  close  he 
could  dare  without  touching.  With  him  came  a  corps  of 
engineers  who  had  offered  to  give  their  holiday  for  the  fel- 
low who  wrote  "The  Game"  and  "The  Sea  Wolf."  Jack 
was  quite  overwhelmed  by  this  tribute,  to  the  shame  of 
his  own  state  and  her  lukewarm  workmen.  He  was 
especially  pleased  over  the  liking  of  these  young  men  for 


OUR  HAWAII  101 

"The  Game,"  which  is  a  favorite  of  his  own,  few  Americans 
seeming  to  care  for  it,  although  England  and  her  colonies 
"eat  it  up." 

Gene  has  coaxed  our  launch  hi  to  action,  and  in  it  we  rode 
to  the  yacht.  Jack  is  overjoyed,  for  it  has  been  useless  ever 
since  the  time  in  San  Francisco  when  it  was  allowed  to  lie 
for  weeks  full  of  salt  water,  well-nigh  ruining  the  little 
engine.  While  Jack  talked  business  aboard,  I  swam  back 
alone  to  shore  with  the  launch  in  attendance.  "I  never 
thought  I  should  marry  a  woman  who  could  swim  like  that ! " 
he  shouted  after  me.  "You  didn't,"  the  woman  purled; 
"you  taught  her  to  swim  like  that!"  And  now  we  look 
forward  to  days  when  together  we  shall  swim  for  hours 
beyond  the  breakers  at  Waikiki,  and  anywhere  in  the 
world. 

Jack  London  is  a  devoted  card-player  who  seldom  finds 
chance  to  sharpen  his  wits  on  a  good  game ;  but  he  finds 
sport  these  evenings  in  playing  four-handed  hearts,  or  whist, 
with  Martin,  Gene,  and  myself.  I  am  not  at  all  talented  in 
the  direction  of  games ;  but  because  of  my  husband's  fond- 
ness for  cards  I  make  a  supreme  effort  to  be  at  least  an 
average  player,  finding  much  enjoyment  in  the  contest. 
There  is  pleasure  and  profit  in  almost  anything  one  under- 
takes to  learn  of  "the  other  fellow's  game"  in  this  world, 
if  one  but  employs  a  little  selfless  understanding. 

Last  evening  there  were  no  cards,  for  we  had  opportun- 
ity again  to  come  in  contact  with  the  Hawaiians,  receiving 
a  party  in  our  sylvan  drawing-  and  music-room.  Miss 
Johnson  had  told  us  that  Judge  Hookanu  (Ho-o-kah-noo) , 
the  native  district  judge  at  Pearl  City,  wished  to  bring 
his  wife  to  call.  To  our  prompt  invitation  they  re- 
sponded with  the  immediate  family  as  well  as  more  distant 
relatives.  One  of  these,  who  dislikes  Americans,  during  a 
conversation  with  Miss  Johnson  concerning  the  Londons, 
remarked:  "Oh,  yes,  the  English  are  always  very  nice." 
"  But  the  Londons  are  American  —  very  American ! ' '  Miss 


102  OUR  HAWAII 

Johnson  straightened  her  out.  However,  the  dusky  lady 
was  cordial  enough  when  our  meeting  took  place,  as  were 
all  the  party.  The  Judge  proved  an  intelligent  and  kindly 
soul,  and  Mrs.  Hookanu,  whom  we  had  long  admired  at 
a  distance,  is  a  magnificently  proportioned  woman  with 
the  port  of  a  queen,  always  attired  in  stately  lines  of  black 
lawn  or  silk. 

None  of  our  visitors  had  heard  the  records  of  Hawaiian 
music  which  we  played  for  them,  and  clapped  their  hands 
over  the  hulas  like  joyous  children.  But  those  merry- 
hands  folded  meekly  and  devoutly  when  the  Trinity  Choir 
voices  rose  on  the  night  air,  and  all  joined  in  singing  the 
harmonies  of  "Lead,  Kindly  Light"  and  the  several  other 
beautiful  hymns,  especial  favorites  of  my  irreligious  philos- 
opher. The  spirit  of  these  folk  is  so  sweet,  so  guileless, 
I  know  I  shall  love  them  forever.  Manners  among  them 
are  gentle  and  considerate,  so  courteous  in  every  conven- 
tional observance,  prompted  by  their  simple,  affectionate 
hearts.  Hookanu  means  proud,  and  these  who  bear  the 
name  demonstrate  a  blending  of  pride  and  gentlehood  that 
is  altogether  aristocratic. 

While  Jack  manipulated  the  talking-machine,  I  lay  hap- 
pily with  head  in  a  friendly  lap  while  satin-brown  fingers 
caressed  face  and  hair,  looking  high  through  the  lacy  foliage 
to  where  big  stars  hung  like  bright  fruit  in  the  branches. 
Jack  wound  up  with  the  Hawaiian  National  Anthem,  and 
the  Judge  removed  his  hat  and  stood,  the  others  rising 
about  him.  Then  we  cajoled  them  into  contributing  their 
own  music,  and  after  some  hesitation,  un tinged  by  the 
faintest  unwillingness,  they  settled  dreamily  to  singing  their 
favorite  melodies  —  brown  velvet  maids  with  laughing, 
shining  eyes,  who  warbled  in  voices  thin  and  penetrating 
as  sweet  zither-strings,  softly,  as  if  afraid  to  vex  the  calm 
night  with  greater  volume. 

At  parting  we  walked  to  the  gate,  arms  around  the  will- 
ing shoulders  of  our  new  friends,  their  own  Aloha  nui  on 


OUR   HAWAII  103 

our  lips.  And  every  aloha  spoken  or  sung  in  Hawaii  is  the 
tender  tone-fall  of  a  dying  bell,  tolling  for  the  old  Hawaii 
Nei. 

Then,  arms-around,  we  two  paced  back  across  the 
grass,  and  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  edge  of  our  bewitching 
garden,  looking  at.  the  slender  sliver  of  a  new  moon  of  good 
omen  dipping  low  above  the  shadowy  hills. 

WAIKIKI,  Tuesday,  June  25,  1907. 

Once  more  in  the  brown  tent-cottage  at  Waikiki,  as  the 
hub  for  many  spokes  of  exploration  in  the  Islands.  I  mis- 
trust we  shall  never  again  pursue  our  idyllic  life  at  the 
peninsula.  Unfortunately,  no  way  has  been  devised  to 
live  in  two  or  more  places  simultaneously  —  except  in  the 
imagination,  and  that  we  can  richly  do. 

Many  jaunts  are  in  the  air :  an  automobile  journey  around 
Oahu ;  a  yacht  race  girdling  the  same  island,  on  which 
"  Wahine  Kapu,"  no  woman,  is  writ  large  upon  the  visages 
of  the  yachtsmen;  a  torchlight  fishing  expedition  fifty 
miles  distant  with  Prince  Cupid,  under  the  same  rules ;  a 
wonderful  trip  to  Maui,  to  camp  through  the  greatest  ex- 
tinct crater  in  the  world,  Haleakala,  said  to  surpass  yEtna 
in  extent  and  elevation ;  and  Jack  has  been  deftly  pulling 
wires  to  bring  about  a  visit  for  us  both  to  the  famous  Leper 
Settlement  on  Molokai,  which  is  said  to  occupy  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  sites  in  the  Islands.  Lucius  E.  Pinkham, 
president  of  the  Board  of  Health,  has  been  our  guest  to 
dinner,  and  not  only  has  he  put  no  obstacles  in  our  way,  but 
seems  anxious  for  us  to  see  Molokai.  There  has  been 
considerable  misrepresentation  of  the  Settlement,  and  he 
evidently  believes  that  Jack  will  write  a  fair  picture.  Mr. 
Pinkham  seems  to  have  the  welfare  of  the  lepers  close  at 
heart ;  and  I  have  heard  that  when  he  fails  to  obtain  from 
the  Government  certain  appropriations  for  improvements, 
he  draws  on  his  own  funds. 


104  OUR  HAWAII 

Thus,  the  air  is  brimful  of  glamour  and  interest,  which 
helps  to  offset  a  tender  regret  for  the  lovely  Lochs  and  for 
our  neighbors  who  have  been  so  lavish  in  neighborliness. 
One  night  before  we  departed,  the  Hookanu  young  folk 
arranged  a  crabbing  party,  and  sang  the  hours  away  under 
the  light  of  a  half -moon ;  another  time,  at  sunset,  we  fished 
off  Mr.  Schwank's  premises  on  the  lee  shore  of  the  peninsula, 
where  we  landed  a  mess  of  " colored  fish"  like  a  flock  of 
wet  butterflies.  On  his  own  soil  we  found  our  lusty  ship 
carpenter  most  cordial,  plying  us  with  fruit  and  coconuts, 
laughing  with  childlike  joy  at  our  praise  of  his  tiny  farm 
garden,  and  bridling  with  pride  over  our  admiration  of  his 
handsome  Portuguese  wife  and  their  children. 

Here  at  the  Beach  life  is  so  gay  there  is  hardly  chance 
to  sleep  and  work,  what  with  arrivals  of  transports  and 
their  ensuing  dinners  and  dances  in  the  hotel  lanai,  swim- 
ming and  surf -boarding  under  sun  and  moon  —  very  cir- 
cumspectly under  the  sun !  One  fine  day  we  essayed  to 
ride  the  breakers  in  a  Canadian  canoe,  and  capsized  in  a 
wild  smother  exactly  as  we  had  been  warned.  I  stayed  under 
water  such  a  time  that  Jack,  alarmed,  came  hunting  for 
me;  but  I  was  safe  beneath  the  overturned  canoe,  which 
I  was  holding  from  bumping  my  head.  He  was  so  relieved 
to  find  me  unhurt  and  capable  of  staying  submerged  so 
long  that  promptly  he  read  me  a  lecture  upon  swimming  as 
fast  as  possible  from  a  capsized  boat,  to  avoid  being  struck 
in  event  of  succeeding  rollers  flinging  it  about. 

One  night,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hawes  we  attended  a 
moonlight  swimming  party  at  the  seaside  home  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  C.  Hedemann,  long-time  Danish  residents  of  Hono- 
lulu, and  became  acquainted  with  more  of  the  white  Is- 
lands' people.  A  lovely  custom  prevails  here  among  the 
owners,  who,  in  absences  abroad,  allow  friends  the  use  of 
their  suburban  places  for  occasions  of  this  kind.  Across 
the  hedges  we  peeped  into  the  next  garden,  where  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson  lived  during  his  visit  to  Honolulu. 


OUR  HAWAII  105 

After  a  military  dance  at  the  hotel  last  evening,  tables 
were  carried  out  on  the  lawn  to  the  sands-edge,  where  a 
supper  was  served  by  silent,  swift  Japanese  in  white.  It  was 
like  a  dream,  sitting  there  among  the  trees  hung  with  soft 
rosy  lights,  our  eyes  sweeping  the  horizon  touched  by  a 
low  golden  moon,  and  across  the  effervescing  foam  of  an 
ebbing  tide  at  our  feet,  and  the  white  sea  horses  charging 
the  crescent  beach,  to  Diamond  Head  purple  black  against 
the  star-dusted  southern  sky.  "Do  you  know  where  you 
are?"  And  there  was  but  one  answer  to  Jack's  whisper 
-"Just  Waikiki,"  which  tells  it  all.  The  charm  of 
Waikiki  —  it  is  the  charm  of  Hawaii  Nei,  "All  Hawaii." 

WAIKIKI,  Friday,  June  28,  1907. 

To  Mr.  Ford  we  owe  a  new  debt  of  gratitude.  And  so 
does  Hawaii,  for  such  another  promoter  never  existed. 
All  he  does  is  for  Hawaii,  desiring  nothing  for  himself  ex- 
cept the  feverish,  unremitting  pleasure  of  sharing  the 
attractions  of  his  adopted  land.  The  past  two  days  have 
been  spent  encircling  Oahu,  or  partly  so,  since  only  the 
railroad  continues  around  the  entire  shore-line,  the  auto- 
mobile drive  cutting  across  a  tableland  midway  of  the 
island.  Oahu  comprises  an  area  of  598  square  miles,  is 
trapezoidal  in  shape,  its  coast  the  most  regular  of  any 
in  the  group.  Another  notable  feature  is  that  it  pos- 
sesses two  distinct  mountain  chains,  Koolau  and  Waianae, 
whereas  the  other  islands  have  isolated  peaks  and  no  dis- 
tinct ranges.  Waianae  is  much  the  older  of  the  two. 
The  geology  of  this  volcanic  isle  is  a  continual  temptation 
to  diverge. 

The  two  machines  carried  ten  of  us,  including  the  drivers, 
two  young  fellows  who,  it  was  plain  to  see,  hung  upon 
every  word  of  Jack  —  oyster  pirate,  tramp,  war  cor- 
respondent, and  what  not.  The  party  was  composed  of 
men  whom  Mr.  Ford  wanted  Jack  to  know,  representing 


io6  OUR  HAWAII 

the  best  of  Hawaii's  white  citizenship.  There  was  Mr. 
Joseph  P.  Cooke,  dominating  figure  of  Alexander  &  Bald- 
win, which  firm  is  the  leading  financial  force  of  the  Islands 
(it  was  Mr.  Cooke's  missionary  grandparents,  the  Amos 
P.  Cookes,  who  founded  and  for  many  years  conducted 
what  was  known  as  the  "  Chiefs'  School,"  afterward  called 
the  "Royal  School/'  which  was  patronized  by  all  of  the 
higher  chiefs  and  their  families) ;  Mr.  Lorrin  A.  Thurston, 
descended  from  the  first  missionaries,  and  associated  con- 
spicuously with  the  affairs  of  Hawaii,  both  monarchical 
and  republican  —  and  incidentally  owner  of  the  morning 
paper  of  Honolulu;  and  Senior  A.  de  Souza  Canovarro, 
Portuguese  Consul,  an  able  man  who  has  lived  here  twenty 
years  and  whose  brain  is  shelved  with  Islands  lore. 

The  world  was  all  dewy  cool  and  the  air  redolent  with 
flowers  when,  after  an  early  dip  in  the  surf,  we  glided  down 
Kalakaua  Avenue  between  the  awakening  duck  ponds  with 
their  lily  pads  and  grassy  partitions.  Leaving  the  center 
of  town  by  way  of  Nuuanu  Avenue,  along  which  an  electric 
car  runs  for  two  miles,  we  headed  for  the  storied  heights  of 
the  Pali  (precipice),  and  presently  began  climbing  toward 
the  converging  walls  to  the  pass  through  the  Koolau 
Range.  This  Nuuanu  Valley  is  a  wondrous  residence 
section,  of  old-fashioned  white  mansions  of  by-gone  styles 
of  architecture,  still  wearing  their  stateliness  like  a  page 
in  history.  The  dwellers  therein  are  cooled  by  every 
breeze  —  not  to  mention  frequent  rains.  It  is  a  humorous 
custom  for  a  resident  to  say,  "I  live  at  the  first  shower," 
or  the  second  shower,  or  even  the  third,  according  to  his 
distance  from  wetter  elevations  in  the  city  limits.  The 
rainfall  in  Nuuanu,  and  Manoa,  the  next  valley  to  the 
southeast,  is  from  140  inches  to  150  inches  annually. 
Many  of  these  old  houses  stand  amidst  expansive  lawns, 
the  driveways  columned  with  royal  palms  —  the  first 
brought  to  the  Islands.  One  white  New  England  house 
was  pointed  out  as  the  country  home  of  Queen  Emma, 


OUR  HAWAII  107 

bought  with  its  adjoining  acres  by  the  Government  and 
turned  into  a  public  park.  The  old  building  contains 
some  of  the  Queen's  furniture,  and  other  antiques  of  the 
period.  "The  Daughters  of  Hawaii,"  an  organization  of 
Hawaii-born  women  of  all  nationalities,  has  the  care  of 
the  whole  premises. 

I  promised  myself  an  afternoon  in  the  cemetery,  where 
quaint  tombs  show  through  the  beautiful  trees  and  shrub- 
bery, and  where,  in  the  Mausoleum,  are  laid  the  bones  of 
the  Kamehameha  and  Kalakaua  dynasties.  King  Luna- 
lilo,  who  succeeded  the  last  of  the  Kamehamehas  and 
preceded  Kalakaua,  rests  in  the  mausoleum  of  Kawaiahao 
Church  in  town. 

Up  we  swung  on  a  smooth  road  graded  along  the  hill- 
sides, the  flanks  of  the  valley  gradually  drawing  together, 
the  violet-shadowed  walls  of  the. mountains  growing  more 
sheer  until  they  seemed  almost  to  overtop  with  their 
clouded  heads  breaking  into  morning  gold  —  Lanihuli 
and  Konahuanui  rising  three  thousand  feet  to  left  and 
right.  From  a  keen  curve,  we  looked  back  and  down  the 
green  miles  we  had  come,  to  a  fairy  white  city  lying  suf- 
fused in  blue  mist  beside  a  fairy  blue  sea. 

Four  miles  from  the  end  of  the  car-track,  quite  unex- 
pectedly to  me,  suddenly  the  machine  emerged  from  a 
narrow  defile  upon  a  platform  hewn  out  of  the  rocky 
earth,  and  my  senses  were  momentarily  stunned,  for  it 
seemed  that  the  island  had  broken  off,  fallen  away  beneath 
our  feet  to  the  east.  On  foot,  pressing  against  a  wall  of 
wind  that  eternally  drafts  through  the  gap,  and  thread- 
ing among  a  dozen  small  pack-mules  resting  on  the  way  to 
Honolulu,  we  gained  the  railed  brink  of  the  Pali.  In  the 
center  of  a  scene  that  has  haunted  me  for  years,  since  I 
beheld  it  in  a  painting  at  the  Pan-American  Exposition  at 
Buffalo,  I  looked  down  a  thousand  feet  into  an  emerald 
abyss  over  the  awful  pitch  of  which  Kamehameha  a  century 
ago  forced  the  warriors  of  the  King  of  Oahu,  Kalanikupule 


io8  OUR  HAWAII 

—  a  " legion  of  the  lost  ones"  whose  shining  skulls  became 
souvenirs  for  strong  climbers  in  succeeding  generations. 
Some  one  pointed  to  a  ferny,  bowery  spot  far  below,  where 
Prince  Cupid  once  kept  a  hunting  cabin ;  but  there  was  now 
neither  trace  of  it  nor  of  any  trail  penetrating  the  dense 
jungle. 

To  the  left,  lying  northwest,  stretch  the  perpendicular, 
inaccessible  ramparts  of  the  Koolau  Range,  which  extends 
the  length  of  the  island,  bastioned  by  erosions,  and  based 
in  rich  green  slopes  of  forest  and  pasture  that  fall  away  to 
alluvial  plains  fertile  with  rice  and  cane,  and  rippled  with 
green  hillocks.  Where  we  stood,  a  spur  of  the  range  bent 
in  a  right-angle  to  the  eastward  at  our  back ;  and  off  to 
the  right,  the  great  valley  is  bounded  by  desultory  low 
hills,  amid  which  an  alluring  red  road  leads  to  Kailua  and 
Waimanalo  by  the  sapphire  sea,  where  we  are  told  the 
bathing  beaches  and  surf  are  wonderful. 

A  reef-embraced  bay  on  the  white-fringed  shore  caused 
me  to  inquire  why  Honolulu  had  not  been  builded  upon 
this  cool  windward  coast  of  Oahu,  with  its  opulent  and 
ready-made  soil.  "Any  navigator  could  tell  you  that," 
Jack  chided.  "Honolulu  was  begun  when  there  was  no 
steam,  and  the  lee  side  of  the  island  was  the  only  safe 
anchorage  for  sailing  vessels." 

The  sun  was  now  burning  up  the  moving  mists  below, 
and  through  opalescent  rents  and  thinning  spaces  we  could 
trace  the  ruddy  ribbon  of  road  we  were  to  travel.  If 
I  had  dreamed  of  the  majestic  grandeur  of  these  mountains, 
of  the  wondrous  painted  valley  to  the  east,  how  feebly  I 
should  have  anticipated  other  islands  until  first  learning 
this  one.  Jack  keeps  repeating  that  he  cannot  understand 
why  it  is  not  thronged  with  tourists,  and  calls  it  the  garden 
of  the  world.  We  have  seen  nothing  like  it  in  America  or 
Europe.  And  yet  Oahu  is  not  spoken  of  as  by  any  means 
the  most  beautiful  of  the  Hawaiian  Islands.  Instead,  both 
residents  and  visitors  rave  over  the  "Garden  Isle,"  Kauai, 


OUR  HAWAII  109 

the  Kona  coast  of  Hawaii  and  that  Big  Island's  gulches, 
the  wonders  of  Maui  with  its  lao  Valley  and  Haleakala, 
"The  House  of  the  Sun."  What  must  they  all  be,  say  we, 
if  these  persons  have  not  been  stirred  by  Windward  Oahu ! 

After  clinging  spellbound  to  our  windy  vantage  for  half 
an  hour  (Jack  meanwhile  not  forgetting  to  calculate  how 
many  times  Kalanikupule's  unfortunate  army  bumped  in 
its  headlong  fall),  we  coasted  the  intricate  curves  of  a  road 
that  is  railed  and  reenforced  with  masonry,  fairly  hanging 
to  a  stark  wall  for  the  best  part  of  two  miles.  I  noticed 
that  Mr.  Cooke  preferred  himself  to  negotiate  his  White 
Steamer  on  this  blood-tingling  descent,  until  we  rounded 
into  the  undulating  floor  of  the  plain,  where  we  stared 
abruptly  up  at  the  astonishing  way  we  had  come,,  with 
its  retaining  walls  of  cement,  some  of  them  four  hundred 
feet  in  length. 

One  stands  at  the  base  of  an  uncompromising  two-thou- 
sand-foot crag,  an  outjut  of  the  range,  and  it  appears  but 
a  few  hundred  feet  to  its  head.  For  there  is  an  elusive- 
ness  about  the  atmosphere  that  makes  unreal  the  sternest 
palisades,  the  ruggedest  gorges.  Everything  is  as  if  seen 
in  a  mirror  that  has  been  dulled  by  a  silver  breath.  That 
is  it  —  it  is  all  a  reflection  —  these  are  mirrored  mountains 
and  shall  always  remain  to  me  like  something  envisioned  in 
a  glass.  "Do  you  know  where  you  are?"  But  I  shook 
my  head  and  hand  to  Jack's  call.  Never  did  I  imagine 
Oahu  was  like  this  on  its  other  side. 

I  for  one  was  commencing  to  realize  how  early  I  had 
breakfasted,  when  the  machines  turned  aside  from  the  road 
on  which  we  had  been  running  through  miles  of  the  Kahuku 
sugar  plantation  into  a  private  driveway  that  led  to  Mrs. 
James  B.  Castle's  sea-rim  retreat,  The  Dunes.  Having  been 
called  unexpectedly  to  Honolulu,  she  had  left  the  manager 
of  the  plantation,  Mr.  Andrew  Adams,  to  do  the  honors, 
together  with  a  note  of  apology  embodying  the  wish  that  we 
make  ourselves  at  home,  and  a  request  that  we  write  in  her 


no  OUR   HAWAII 

guest  book.  After  luncheon  the  men  insisted  that  I  in- 
scribe something  fitting  for  them  to  witness.  Warm  and 
tired  and  dull,  I  wrote  the  following  uninspired  if  grateful 
sentiment : 

"With  appreciation  of  the  perfect  hospitality  —  and  deep  regret 
that  the  giver  was  absent." 

The  others  followed  with  their  signatures;  and  when 
Mr.  Ford's  turn  came,  his  eye  read  what  I  had  written,  but 
his  unresting  mind  must  have  been  wool-gathering,  for  he 
scribbled : 

"Hoping  that  every  passer-by  may  be  as  fortunate." 

A  chorus  of  derision  caused  him  to  bend  an  alarmed  eye 
upon  the  page,  which  he  carefully  scanned,  especially  my 
latter  phrase.  And  then  out  came  the  page.  Mr.  Cooke  un- 
availingly  assured  him  that  Mrs.  Castle  enjoyed  a  good 
joke,  but  the  scarlet-faced  Ford  was  not  to  be  induced  to 
replace  the  sheet.  I  then  prepared  another,  to  which  our 
friend  affixed  his  autograph.  This  is  the  first  time  we  have 
ever  seen  that  irrepressible  gentleman  crestfallen  in  the 
least  degree ;  and  he  remained  subdued  for  the  rest  of  the 
day.  "Man,  man,  why  don't  you  relax  once  in  a  while?" 
I  had  said  to  him  earlier  in  the  day.  "You'll  wear  your- 
self out  before  you're  forty.  You  should  dwell  at  length 
upon  words  like  Eternity,  Repose,  Rome — "  but  I  was 
interrupted  by  an  "Oh,  fudge!"  as  he  saw  what  difficulty 
I  was  having  to  preserve  a  grave  countenance. 

Mr.  Adams  showed  us  over  the  labor  barracks,  neat 
settlements  of  Japanese  and  Portuguese,  in  which  he  seems 
deeply  interested,  especially  as  concerns  the  future  of 
the  younger  element  —  the  swarms  of  beautiful  children 
that  we  saw  rolling  in  the  grass.  The  Portuguese  flocked 
around  the  Consul,  who  was  apparently  an  old  and  loved 
friend. 


OUR   HAWAII  in 

Several  miles  farther,  we  came  to  the  Reform  School, 
where  the  erring  youth  of  Oahu  are  guided  in  the  way  they 
should  go,  by  Mr.  Gibson,  a  keen-faced,  wiry  man,  who  has 
made  splendid  showing  with  the  boys,  these  being  largely 
of  the  native  stock.  There  was  not  a  criminal  face  among 
them,  and  probably  the  majority  are  detained  for  tempera- 
mental laxness  of  one  sort  or  another.  Emotional  they  are, 
and  easily  led,  and  inordinately  fond  of  games  of  chance 
-  but  dishonest  never.  A  small  sugar  plantation  is 
carried  on  in  connection  with  the  school,  which  is  worked 
by  the  boys. 

Our  last  lap  was  from  the  Reform  School  to  Waialua, 
which  lies  at  the  sea  edge  of  the  Waialua  Plantation. 
Haleiwa  means  " House  Beautiful,"  and  is  pronounced 
Hah-lay-e-vah.  There  is  so  much  dissension  as  to  how  the 
"v"  sound  crept  into  the  "w,"  that  I  am  going  to  keep  out 
of  it,  and  retire  with  the  statement  that  Alexander,  in  his 
splendid  " History  of  the  Hawaiian  People,"  remarks  that 
"The  letter  'w'  generally  sounds  like  'v'  between  the  penult 
and  final  syllable  of  a  word." 

House  and  grounds  are  very  attractive,  broad  lawns 
sloping  to  an  estuary  just  inside  the  beach,  and  in  this 
river-like  bit  of  water  picturesque  fishing  boats  and  canoes 
lie  at  anchor.  A  span  of  rustic  Japanese  bridge  leads  to 
the  bath-houses,  and  here  we  went  for  a  swim  before 
dinner.  We  would  not  advise  beginners  to  choose  this  beach 
for  their  first  swimming  lessons,  for  it  shelves  with  startling 
abruptness,  while  the  undertow  is  more  noticeable  than  at 
Waikiki.  But  for  those  who  can  take  care  of  themselves, 
this  lively  water  is  good  sport  and  more  bracing  than  on 
the  leeward  coast. 

We  strolled  through  the  gardens  and  along  green  little 
dams  between  duck  ponds  spotted  with  lily  pads,  and  the 
men  renewed  their  boyhood  by  " chucking"  rocks  into  a 
sumptuous  mango  tree,  bringing  down  the  russet-gold 
fruit  for  an  appetizer.  I  may  some  day  be  rash  enough  to 


ii2  OUR  HAWAII 

describe  the  flavor  of  a  mango,  or  try  to ;  but  not  yet  — 
although  I  seem  to  resent  some  author's  statement  that  it 
bears  a  trace  of  turpentine. 

Leaving  Haleiwa  next  morning,  we  deserted  the  sea- 
shore for  very  different  country.  For  a  while  the  motor 
ascended  steadily  toward  the  southwest,  on  a  fine  red  road 
-  so  red  that  on  ahead  the  very  atmosphere  was  roseate. 
Looking  back  as  we  climbed,  many  a  lovely  surf-picture 
rewarded  the  quest  of  our  eyes,  white  breakers  ruffling  the 
creamy  beaches,  with  a  sea  bluer  than  the  deep  blue  sky. 

At  an  elevation  of  about  eight  hundred  feet  one  strikes 
the  rolling  green  prairieland  of  the  "Plains,"  where  the 
ocean  is  visible  northwest  and  southeast,  on  both  sides  of 
the  island.  Such  a  wonderful  plateau,  between  mountain- 
walls,  swept  by  the  freshening  northeast  trade  —  miles 
upon  miles  of  rich  grazing,  and  hill  upon  hill  ruled  with 
blue-green  lines  of  pineapple  growth.  At  one  pineapple 
plantation  we  stopped  that  Jack  might  take  a  look 
around  at  the  fabulously  promising  industry.  Mr.  Kellogg, 
the  manager,  gave  an  interesting  demonstration  of  how 
simple  is  the  cultivation  of  the  luscious  " pines,"  and  held 
stoutly  that  a  woman,  unaided,  could  earn  a  good  living 
out  of  a  moderate  patch.  "So  you  see,  my  dear,"  Jack 
advised  me,  "when  I  can't  write  any  longer,  you  can  keep 
both  of  us  at  Wahiawa!" 

Although  like  prairie  seen  from  a  distance,  we  discovered 
that  this  section  of  Oahu  is  serrated  by  enormous  gullies, 
in  character  resembling  our  California  barrancas,  but  of 
vastly  greater  proportions.  A  huge  dam  has  been  con- 
structed for  the  purpose  of  conserving  the  water  for 
irrigation. 

Something  went  wrong  with  Mr.  Cooke's  machine,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  telephone  from  Wahiawa  to  Honolulu  for 
some  fixtures.  Think  of  this  old  savage  isle  in  the  middle 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  where,  from  its  high  interior,  one  may 
talk  over  a  wire  to  a  modern  city,  for  modern  parts  of  a 


OUR  HAWAII  113 

"horseless  carriage,"  to  be  sent  by  steam  over  a  steel 
track !  It  is  stimulating  once  in  a  day  to  ponder  the  age 
in  which  we  live. 

And  on  one  of  these  ridges  near  Wahiawa,  not  so  long 
ago,  there  preyed  a  sure-enough  ogre,  a  robber-chief  whose 
habit  it  was  to  lie  in  wait  in  a  narrow  pass,  and  pounce 
upon  his  victims,  whom  he  slew  on  a  large,  flat  rock. 

WAIKIKI,  June  29,  1907. 

"Have  you  seen  the  Cleghorn  Gardens?"  is  a  frequent 
question  to  the  malihini,  and  only  another  way  of  asking 
if  one  has  seen  the  gardens  of  the  late  Princess  Victoria 
Kaiulani,  lovely  hybrid  flower  of  Scottish  and  Polynesian 
parentage,  daughter  of  a  princess  of  Hawaii,  Mirian  Like- 
like  (sister  of  Liliuokalani  and  Kalakaua)  and  the  Honorable 
Arthur  Scott  Cleghorn.  We  are  too  late  by  twenty  years 
to  be  welcomed  by  Likelike,  and  eight  years  behind  time  to 
hear  the  merriment  of  Kaiulani  in  her  father's  house  — 
Kaiulani,  who  would  now  be  of  the  same  age  as  Jack  London. 
King  Kalakaua  died  at  the  Palace  Hotel  in  San  Francisco 
on  January  20,  1891,  and  when  his  remains  arrived  in 
Honolulu  from  the  U.S.S.  Charleston  nine  days  later,  and 
his  sister  Liliuokalani  was  proclaimed  his  successor,  the 
little  Princess  Kaiulani,  their  niece,  was  appointed  heir 
apparent.  And  now  her  venerable  father's  acquaintance 
we  have  added  to  our  vital  impressions  of  Hawaii. 

The  famous  house,  Ainahau,  is  not  visible  from  the 
Avenue.  Here  the  bereft  consort  of  Likelike  lives  in  soli- 
tary state  with  his  servants,  amid  the  relics  of  unforgotten 
days.  He  receives  few  visitors,  and  we  felt  as  if  breaking 
his  privacy  were  an  intrusion,  even  though  by  invitation. 
But  the  commandingly  tall,  courtly  old  Scot,  wide  brown 
eyes  smiling  benevolently  under  white  hair  and  beetling 
brows,  paced  halfway  down  his  palm-pillared  driveway 
in  greeting,  and  led  our  little  party  about  the  green-shady 


ii4  OUR   HAWAII 

ways  of  the  wonderland  of  flowers  and  vines,  lily  ponds 
and  arbors,  "  Where  Kaiulani  sat,"  or  sewed,  or  read,  or 
entertained  —  all  in  a  forest  of  high  interlacing  trees  of  many 
varieties,  both  native  and  foreign.  I  was  most  fascinated 
by  a  splendid  banyan,  a  tree  which  from  childhood  I  had 
wanted  to  see.  This  pleased  the  owner,  whose  especial 
pride  it  is  —  "Kaiulani's  banyan"  ;  although  he  is  obliged 
to  trim  it  unmercifully  lest  its  predatory  tentacles  capture 
the  entire  park. 

Into  nurseries  and  vegetable  gardens  we  followed  him,  and 
real  grass  huts  that  have  stood  untouched  for  years.  An- 
other pride  of  Mr.  Cleghorn's  is  his  sixteen  varieties  of  hibis- 
cus, of  sizes  and  shapes  and  tints  that  we  would  hardly  have 
believed  possible  —  magic  puffs  of  exquisite  color  springing 
like  miracles  from  slender  green  stems  that  are  often  too 
slight,  and  snap  under  the  full  blossom-weight. 

And  the  house.  The  portion  once  occupied  by  the  van- 
ished Princess  is  never  opened  to  strangers,  nor  used  in  any 
way.  Only  her  father  wanders  there,  investing  the  pretty 
suite  of  rooms  with  recollection  of  her  tuneful  young  pres- 
ence. For  she  was  little  over  twenty  when  she  died. 

But  we  were  made  welcome  in  the  great  drawing-room, 
reached  by  three  broad  descending  steps,  and  containing 
works  of  art  and  curios  from  all  the  world :  old  furniture 
from  European  palaces  that  would  be  the  despair  of  a  re- 
pulsed collector ;  tables  of  lustrous  Hawaiian  woods  fash- 
ioned to  order  in  Germany  half  a  century  ago ;  rare  oriental 
vases  set  upon  flare-topped  pedestals  ingeniously  made  from 
inverted  tree  stumps  of  beautiful  brown  kou  wood,  polished 
like  marble ;  a  quaint  and  stately  concert  grand  piano ;  and, 
most  fascinating  of  all,  treasures  of  Hawaiian  courts,  among 
them  some  of  the  marvelous  feather  work.  In  the  dim 
corners  of  the  immense  room,  kahilis  stand  as  if  on  guard  — 
barbaric  royal  insignia,  plumed  staffs  of  state,  some  of  them 
twice  the  height  of  a  man.  The  feathers  are  fastened 
at  right  angles  to  the  pole  of  shining  hardwood,  forming  a 


OUR  HAWAII  115 

barrel-shaped  decoration,  somewhat  like  our  hearse-plumes 
of  a  past  generation.  But  the  kahili  is  only  sometimes  of 
funereal  hue,  more  often  flaming  in  scarlet,  or  some  grade  of 
the  rich  yellows  loved  of  the  Islanders.  Originally  a  fly- 
brush  in  savage  courts,  the  kahili  progressed  in  dignity 
through  the  dynasties  to  an  indispensable  adjunct  to  offi- 
cial occasions,  sometimes  exceeding  thirty  feet  in  height. 
To  me,  it  and  the  outrigger  canoe  are  the  most  significantly 
impressive  of  royal  barbaric  forms. 

The  walls  of  the  room  are  solidly  ranged  with  books  for 
some  two  thirds  of  their  height,  and  above  the  books  hang 
fascinating  old  portraits  of  by-gone  Hawaiian  royalty  as 
well  as  famous  personages  of  the  outer  world.  Jack's  eyes 
snapped  as  he  fingered  the  old  volumes  —  I  can  see  his  face 
now,  avid  as  always  to  read  every  word  between  the  covers 
of  every  book  ever  made  by  man.  Not  because  these  were 
rare  old  editions  in  rare  old  bindings  was  he  wooed,  but  just 
because  they  were  books,  old  books  with  their  chronicles  of 
the  minds  and  hearts,  hazards  and  achievements  of  man- 
kind. 

Francesca  Colonna  Hawes,  with  whom  we  had  come, 
opened  her  incredible  black  eyes  in  astonishment,  the  while 
we  sat  at  tea  in  a  narrow  red-tiled  room  overlooking  a  court 
of  flowers,  when  our  host  remarked  in  his  grave  voice : 

"Why  can  you  not  write  in  my  gardens,  Mr.  London? 
It  would  please  me.  You  are  very  welcome  to  come  every 
day.  And  you  would  be  entirely  undisturbed.  Why 
not,  now?" 

According  to  Mrs.  Hawes,  this  is  an  unheard-of  consid- 
eration in  these  times  of  Mr.  Cleghorn's  seclusion.  "Why 
don't  you?"  I  queried  of  Jack,  on  the  way  home. 
"Maybe  I  shall,"  he  replied.  But  I  think  he  will  not,  for 
he  is  curiously  timorous  about  availing  himself  of  favors. 

Mr.  Cleghorn  also  suggested  that  he  could  arrange  a  pri- 
vate audience  with  Queen  Liliuokalani  at  her  residence  in 
town,  if  we  desired.  Which  reminds  me  that  Jack  holds  a 


n6  OUR  HAWAII 

letter  of  introduction  to  her  from  Charles  Warren  Stoddard, 
who  knew  her  in  the  days  of  her  tempestuous  reign.  He 
and  Jack  have  called  each  other  Dad  and  Son  for  years, 
although  acquainted  only  by  correspondence.  But  we  have 
little  wish  to  intrude  upon  the  Queen,  for  it  can  be  scant 
pleasure  to  her  to  meet  Americans,  no  matter  how  sym- 
pathetic they  may  be  with  her  changed  state. 

Upon  a  carven  desk  lay  open  a  guest  book,  an  old  ledger, 
in  which  we  were  asked  to  leave  our  hand.  The  first  name 
written  in  this  thick  tome  is  that  of  "Oskar,  of  Sweden  and 
Norway,"  and,  running  over  the  fascinating  yellowed  pages, 
among  other  notable  autographs  we  read  that  of  Agassiz. 

Here,  there,  and  everywhere,  in  photograph,  in  oil  por- 
traiture, on  wall  and  upon  easel,  we  met  the  lovely,  pale 
face  of  the  bereft  father's  Kaiulani,  in  whose  memory  he 
seems  to  exist  in  a  mood  of  adoration.  Every  event  dates 
from  her  untimely  passing.  "When  Kaiulani  died,"  he 
would  begin;  or  "Since  Kaiulani  went  away,"  and  "Be- 
fore Kaiulani  left  me  —  "  was  the  burden  of  his  thought 
and  conversation  concerning  the  past  of  which  we  loved  to 
hear.  Pictures  show  her  to  have  been  a  woman  possess- 
ing the  beauty  of  both  races,  proud,  loving,  sensitive,  spiritu- 
elle,  with  the  characteristic  curling  mouth  and  great  lumi- 
nous brown  eyes  of  the  Hawaiian,  looking  out  wistfully 
upon  a  world  of  pleasure  and  opportunity  that  could  not  de- 
tain her  frail  body.  Flower  of  romance  she  was  —  romance 
that  nothing  in  the  old  books  of  South  Sea  adventuring  can 
rival;  her  sire,  a  handsome  roving  boy  ashore  from  an 
English  ship  back  in  the  '50*5 ;  her  mother  a  dusky  princess 
of  the  blood  royal,  who  loved  the  handsome  white-skinned 
youth  and  constituted  him  governor  of  Oahu  under  the 
Crown,  that  she  might  with  honor  espouse  him. 

And  now,  the  boy,  grown  old  —  his  Caucasian  vitality 
having  survived  the  gentle  Polynesian  blood  of  the  wife  who 
brought  him  laurels  in  her  own  land,  —  having  watched  the 
changing  administrations  of  that  land  and  race  for  nearly 


OUR  HAWAII  117 

threescore  years,  abides  alone  with  the  shadow  of  her  and 
of  the  pale  daughter  with  the  poet  brow  who  did  honor  to 
them  both  by  coming  into  being.  To  this  winsome  child- 
woman,  previous  to  her  voyage  to  England's  Court,  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson,  living  where  we  peeped  into  the  garden 
but  a  few  nights  gone,  sent  the  following  : 

"[Written  in  April  to  Kaiulani  in  the  April  of  her  age;  and  at 
Waikiki,  within  easy  walk  of  Kaiulani's  banyan !  When  she  comes  to 
my  land  and  her  father's,  and  the  rain  beats  upon  the  window  (as  I 
fear  it  will),  let  her  look  at  this  page ;  it  will  be  like  a  weed  gathered 
and  pressed  at  home ;  and  she  will  remember  her  own  islands,  and 
the  shadow  of  the  mighty  tree ;  and  she  will  hear  the  peacocks  scream- 
ing in  the  dusk  and  the  wind  blowing  in  the  palms ;  and  she  will  think 
of  her  father  sitting  there  alone.  —  R.  L.  S.] 

"Forth  from  her  land  to  mine  she  goes, 
The  island  maid,  the  island  rose, 
Light  of  heart  and  bright  of  face : 
The  daughter  of  a  double  race. 

"  Her  islands  here,  in  Southern  sun, 
Shall  mourn  their  Kaiulani  gone ; 
And  I  in  her  dear  banyan  shade, 
Look  vainly  for  my  little  maid. 

"  But  our  Scots  islands  far  away 
Shall  glitter  with  unwonted  day, 
And  cast  for  once  their  tempests  by 
To  smile  in  Kaiulani's  eye." 

Aboard  the  Noeau,  bound  for  Molokai, 
Monday  Evening,  July  i,  1907. 

Noeau  (No-a-ah-oo  —  quickly  No-a-ow)  —  the  very  name 
has  a  mournful,  ominous  sound ;  Noeau,  ship  of  despair, 
ferry  of  human  freight  condemned.  We  are  not  merry, 
Jack  and  I,  for  what  we  have  witnessed  during  the  past  two 
hours  would  wring  pitying  emotion  from  a  graven  image. 
And  just  when  we  would  cheer  a  trifle,  it  not  being  our  mu- 


n8  OUR  HAWAII 

tual  temperament  long  to  remain  downcast,  our  eyes  are 
again  compelled  by  the  huddle  of  doomed  fellow-creatures 
amidst  their  pathetic  bundles  of  belongings  on  the  open 
after-deck  of  the  plunging  interisland  steamer  bound  for 
Molokai. 

None  of  it  did  we  miss  —  the  parting  and  the  embarka- 
tion of  the  banished ;  and  never,  should  I  live  a  thousand 
fair  years,  shall  I  forget  the  memory  of  that  strange,  rending 
wailing,  escaping  bestiality  by  its  very  deliberateness,  for, 
no  matter  how  deep  and  true  may  be  the  grief,  this  wailing 
expression  of  it  constitutes  a  ceremonial  in  this  as  in  other 
countries  where  it  survives  as  a  set  form  of  lamentation. 
Shrill,  piercing,  it  curdled  the  primitive  life-current  in  us, 
every  tone  in  the  gamut  of  sorrow  being  played  upon  the 
plaintive  word  auwe  (ah-oo-way' —  quickly  ow-way'),  alas, 
in  recurrent  chorusing  when  each  parting  took  place  and 
the  loved  one  stepped  upon  the  gangplank,  untouched  by 
the  officers  and  crew  of  the  small  steamer. 

" Clean"  passengers  were  taken  aboard  first,  the  vessel 
picking  up  at  another  wharf  those  who  bore  no  return  ticket 
to  the  land  of  the  clean.  As  the  Noeau  came  alongside,  the 
crowd  ashore  appeared  like  any  other  leave-taking  gather- 
ing of  natives,  even  to  the  flowers ;  but  suddenly  Jack  at 
my  elbow  jerked  out,  "Look  —  look  at  that  boy's  face!" 
And  I  looked,  and  saw.  It  was  a  lad  of  twelve  or  so,  and 
one  of  his  cheeks  was  so  swollen  that  the  bursting  eye 
seemed  as  if  extended  on  a  fleshy  horn.  Beside  him  a 
woman  hovered,  her  face  dark  with  sorrow.  Our  eyes  were 
soon  quick  to  detect  the  marks  and  roved  from  face  to  face, 
selecting  more  or  less  accurately  those  who  proved  later 
to  be  passengers  for  the  dark  fifty-odd  miles  across  Kaiwi 
Channel  and  along  the  north  coast  of  Molokai  to  the 
village  of  Kalaupapa  that  is  their  final  destination  and 
home  on  this  earth. 

But  one  can  only  see  what  one  can  see,  and  there  were 
men  and  women  among  these  who  bore  no  apparent  blem- 


OUR  HAWAII  119 

ish ;  and  yet,  this  moment  we  can  distinguish  these  among 
the  disfigured  company  on  the  lurching  after-deck. 

The  ultimate  wrench  of  hearts  and  hands,  the  supreme 
acme  of  ruth,  came  when,  separated  by  the  widening  breach 
between  steamer  and  dock,  the  lost  and  the  deserted  gazed 
upon  one  another,  and  the  last  pitiful  offerings  of  leis  fell 
into  the  water.  No  normal  malihini  could  stand  by  un- 
touched ;  it  was  utterly,  hopelessly  sad  —  a  funeral  in  which 
the  dead  themselves  walked.  * 

For  one  white  child,  a  blonde-haired  little  German  maid, 
we  felt  especial  solicitude.  Her  bronze  companions  all 
had  dear  ones  to  wail  for  them  and  for  whom  to  "keen." 
But  she  stood  quite  apart,  with  dry  eyes  old  before  their 
time,  watching  an  alien  race  deliver  its  woe  in  ways  she  had 
not  learned.  Whose  baby  is  she?  To  whom  is  she  dear? 
Where  is  the  mother  who  bore  her?  And  the  answer  was 
just  now  volunteered  by  the  Superintendent  of  the  Leper 
colony,  returning  from  a  vacation,  Mr.  J.  D.  McVeigh. 
The  child's  mother  is  already  in  Kalaupapa,  far  gone  with 
a  rapid  form  of  leprosy ;  and  this  little  daughter,  who  had 
been  left  with  a  drunken  father  who  treated  her  ill,  has  been 
found  with  the  same  manifestation,  and  will  live  but  a  few 
years.  So  she  is  going  to  her  own,  and  her  own  is  waiting 
for  her,  and  it  is  well.  But  think  of  the  whole  distorted 
face  of  the  dream  of  life  .  .  .  dear  Christ ! 

.  .  .  Now  the  white  child  has  fallen  asleep  in  a  dull  red 
sunset  glow,  her  flaxen  head  in  the  lap  of  a  beautiful  hapa 
haole  girl  who  carries  no  apparent  spot  of  corrosion.  She 
looks  down  right  motherly  upon  the  tired  face  of  the  small 
Saxon  maid.  Hawaiian  women  eternally  "rock  cradles 
in  their  hearts,"  which  are  so  expansive  that  it  is  said  to 
matter  little  whose  child  they  cradle  -*—  bringing  up  one 
another's  offspring  with  impartial  loving-kindness.  This 
practice  extended  even  into  highest  circles,  as  Liliuokalani 
attests  in  her  own  entertaining  book,  "Hawaii's  Story  by 
Hawaii's  Queen."  She  herself  was  " given  away"  at  birth, 


120  OUR  HAWAII 

wrapped  in  the  finest  tapa  cloth/  to  Konia,  a  grand- 
daughter of  Kamehameha  the  Great,  wedded  to  a  high 
chief,  Paki.  Their  own  daughter,  Bernice  Pauahi,  Lili- 
uokalani's  foster-sister,  was  afterward  married  to  C.  R. 
Bishop,  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  in  1893  under  King 
Lunalilo,  Kalakaua's  predecessor.  The  Queen  writes  that 
in  using  the  term  foster-sister  she  merely  adopts  one  cus- 
tomary in  the  English  language,  there  being  no  such  modi- 
fication recognized  in  her  own  tongue.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
in  childhood  she  knew  no  other  parents  than  Paki  and 
Konia,  no  other  sister  than  Pauahi.  Her  own  father  and 
mother  were  no  more  than  interesting  acquaintances.  For 
this  custom  she  offers  only  the  reason  that  the  alliance  by 
adoption  cemented  ties  of  friendship  between  chiefs,  which, 
spreading  to  the  common  people,  doubtless  encouraged 
harmony  —  a  harmony  that  would  have  delighted  King 
Solomon,  to  say  nothing  of  white  men's  courts  of  law ! 

They  forget  quickly,  these  Hawaiians,  one  hears ;  and  one 
must  believe,  I  suppose  —  and,  believing,  thanks  whatever 
gods  may  be ;  for  this  blissful  latitude  never  was  created 
for  the  harboring  of  grief.  But  the  ability  or  tendency  to 
forget  pain  has  little  to  do  with  its  momentary  poignancy. 
The  passionate  Hawaiian  suffers  with  all  the  abandon  of  the 
blood  that  keeps  him  always  young.  The  sorrow  is  real, 
and  the  weeping.  If  these  people  could  not  recover  speedily 
from  despair,  they  would  die  off  faster  than  they  are  already 
perishing  from  their  arcadian  isles. 

On  our  deck,  observing  the  dolorous  scene  aft,  is  a  young 
native  girl,  round  and  ripe  and  more  lovely  than  any  we  have 
yet  seen.  Clean  and  wholesome,  unsullied  by  any  blight, 
a  happy  body,  she  stands  beside  her  father,  a  handsome 
gray-haired  Hawaiian  with  lofty  mien;  and  one  wonders 
what  are  the  young  girl's  thoughts  as  she  gazes  upon  these 
wrecks  of  her  kind.  And  yet,  she  herself  might  have  to  be 
sought  in  Molokai  another  year.  As  well  seek  her  under- 
ground, is  the  next  thought.  Poor  human  flesh  and  blood ! 


OUR  HAWAII  121 

KALAUPAPA,  MOLOKAI, 
Tuesday,  July  2,  1907. 

We  are  endeavoring  to  reconstruct  whatever  mind-picture 
we  have  hitherto  entertained  of  that  grave  of  living  death, 
Molokai.  But  it  is  no  use,  and  we  would  best  give  it  up. 
Eye  and  brain  are  possessed  of  the  bewildering  actual- 
ity, and  having  expected  Heaven  knows  what  lugubrious 
prospect,  we  are  all  at  sea.  Certain  it  is  that  all  precon- 
ceptions were  far  removed  from  the  joyous  sunny  scene  now 
before  us,  as  I  rock  in  a  hammock  on  the  Superintendent's 
lanai,  shaded  from  the  late  sunshine  by  a  starry  screen  of 
white  jasmine.  Jack  stretches  at  length  on  a  rattan  lounge, 
cigarette  in  one  hand  and  long  cool  glass  in  the  other ;  and 
what  we  see  is  a  peaceful  pasture  of  many  acres,  a  sort  of 
bulging  village  green,  in  the  center  a  white  bandstand 
breathing  of  festivity.  Around  the  verdant  semi-hemi- 
sphere, widely  straggling  as  if  space  and  real  estate  values 
were  the  least  consideration  of  mankind,  dot  the  flower- 
bedecked  homes  of  the  leprous  inhabitants.  Breaking 
rudely  into  this  vision  of  repose,  a  cowboy  on  a  black 
horse  dashes  furiously  across  the  field  and  whirls  out  of 
sight.  A  leper.  Two  comely  wahines  in  rufHy  white 
holokus,  starched  to  a  nicety,  stroll  chatting  by  the  house, 
looking  up  brightly  to  smile  Aloha  with  eyes  and  lips. 
Lepers.  Jack  looks  at  me.  I  look  at  Jack.  And  this  is 
Molokai  the  dread ;  Molokai,  isle  of  despair,  where  Father 
Damien  spent  his  martyrdom. 

The  Settlement  lies  on  a  triangle,  a  sort  of  wide-based 
peninsula,  selected  by  Dr.  Hutchinson  in  1865,  shut  effec- 
tively off  as  it  is  from  the  rest  of  the  island  to  the  south 
by  a  formidable  wall  rising  four  thousand  feet  into  the 
deep-blue  sky  —  a  wall  of  mystery,  for  it  is  well-nigh  un- 
scalable except  by  the  bands  of  wild  goats  that  we  can 
discover  only  by  aid  of  Mr.  McVeigh's  telescope.  Every 
little  while,  as  a  sailor  sweeps  the  horizon,  he  steps  to  the 


122  OUR  HAWAII 

glass,  hidden  from  the  community  by  the  jasmine  screen, 
and  studies  the  land  of  his  charge,  keeping  track  of  the 
doings  of  the  village. 

The  only  trail  out  of  or  into  this  isolated  lowland  zigzags 
the  bare  face  of  the  pali  near  its  northern  end,  at  the  sea- 
girt extremity  of  the  Settlement  reserve.  A  silvery-green 
cluster  of  kukui  trees  marks  the  beginning  of  the  trail  not 
far  up  from  the  water's  edge.  Thus  far  and  no  farther  may 
the  residents  of  the  peninsula  stray ;  and  the  telescope  is 
most  often  trained  to  this  point  of  the  compass.  That  trail 
does  not  look  over-inviting;  but  we  have  set  our  hearts 
upon  leaving  Kalaupapa  by  this  route,  albeit  Mr.  McVeigh, 
who  knows  what  is  in  our  thought,  warns  that  it  is  under- 
going repairs  and  is  unsafe.  Indeed,  he  has  gone  so  far  as 
to  say  that  it  is  out  of  the  question  for  us  to  ascend  it  in  its 
dilapidated  condition. 

In  view  of  the  pleasant  reality  of  the  island,  yesternight's 
racking  experience  seems  a  nightmare.  Over  and  above 
pity  for  the  stricken  exiles,  we  were  none  too  comfortable 
ourselves,  for  in  the  tiny  stuffy  staterooms  it  was  impossible 
to  sleep,  and  except  for  coolness  the  populous  deck  was 
scarcely  less  disturbing.  Besides  the  Superintendent,  the 
other  passengers  were  hapa  haoles  and  a  white  Catholic 
father  with  his  Bishop,  bound  for  the  Settlement  to  inspect 
their  institutions. 

We  turned  in  early  on  deck-mattresses,  after  listening  to 
some  thrilling  yarns  from  the  captain  and  mate  of  the  sorry 
little  steamer,  to  say  nothing  of  those  of  Mr.  McVeigh,  who 
sparkles  with  Hibernian  wit.  As  the  miles  and  time  in- 
creased between  the  lepers  and  the  harbor  of  farewells,  they 
searched  out  their  ubiquitous  ukuleles  and  guitars,  and 
rendered  us  all  happier  for  their  presence,  poor  things. 
All  would  have  been  well,  and  the  music  and  murmuring 
voices  soon  have  had  us  drowsing,  but  for  a  tipsy  native 
sailor  who  chipped  in  noisily  with  ribald  song  and  speech 
that  was  loudly  profane. 


OUR  HAWAII  123 

At  intervals  the  captain  and  mates  issued  from  their  un- 
restful  cubbies  on  the  short  strip  of  plunging  deck  (these 
interisland  channels  have  a  reputation  equal  to  the  passage 
between  Dover  and  Calais),  and  conversed  at  length 
in  unmuffled  accents.  To  cap  my  sleepless  discomfort, 
Jack,  who  had  been  fighting  all  night,  he  avers  uncon- 
sciously, to  wrest  away  the  soft  pillow  he  had  insisted  upon 
my  using,  finally  appropriated  the  same  with  a  determined 
" pounding  of  the  ear"  in  hobo  parlance.  And  poor  I, 
lacking  the  meanness  to  reclaim  it  at  price  of  rousing  the 
tender  soul  from  his  troubled  slumber,  languished  upon  a 
neck-wrenching  bolster  stuffed,  I  swear,  with  scrap-iron. 
It  has  since  occurred  to  us  that  it  may  have  been  a  life- 
preserver. 

At  the  dim  chill  hour  of  four,  all  passengers  for  Kalaupapa 
were  landed  in  a  rough-and-ready  life-boat  through  breakers 
which,  to  our  regret,  were  the  reverse  of  boisterous.  We 
had  looked  forward  to  making  through  a  breach  of  surf 
like  that  shown  in  photographs  of  Kalaupapa  Landing. 
But  it  was  novel  enough,  this  being  let  down  the  lurching 
black  flank  of  the  ship  where  she  rolled  in  the  unseen  swell, 
into  an  uncertain  boat  where  muscular  arms  eased  us  into 
invisible  seats.  The  merest  fitful  whisper  of  air  was  stir- 
ring, and  there  was  something  solemn  in  our  progress,  deep- 
dipping  oars  sending  the  heavy  boat  in  large,  slow  rhythm 
over  a  broad  swell  and  under  the  black  frown  of  a  wall  of 
darker  darkness  against  the  jeweled  southern  sky. 

The  landing  is  a  small  concrete  breakwater,  into  the 
crooked  arm  of  which  we  slipped,  trusting  in  the  lantern 
gleam  to  dark  hands  of  natives  that  reached  to  help.  We 
wondered,  entirely  without  alarm,  if  they  were  leprous 
fingers  we  grasped,  but  rested  upon  fate  and  climbed  our 
best. 

The  wall  was  rimmed  with  sitting  figures,  and  when  our 
twenty-five  leper  passengers  set  foot  on  the  cement,  some 
were  greeted  in  low,  hesitant  Hawaiian  speech  as  if  by 


124  OUR   HAWAII 

acquaintances.  In  the  flicker  of  the  swinging  lanterns  we 
glimpsed  a  white  woman's  anxious  face  and  two  pale  hands 
stretched  out.  And  tears  were  in  my  eyes  to  see  the  Ger- 
man mother  and  child  united,  even  in  their  awful  plight. 

A  quiet  Japanese  man  took  charge  of  me  and  my  suit- 
case, and  I  was  carried  in  a  cart  up  a  gentle  rise  to  this 
cottage  smothered  in  garden  trees,  the  door  of  which  is 
reached  by  way  of  a  scented,  vine-clasped  arbor.  The 
night  was  almost  grewsomely  still,  and  I  tried  to  pierce 
the  gloom  to  judge  how  near  was  that  oppressive  wall  to 
the  south,  but  could  form  no  idea  in  the  velvet  black. 

The  Japanese  turned  me  over  to  his  wife,  a  small  motherly 
thing  who  fluttered  me  into  a  bright  white  room  with  can- 
opied bed,  into  which  she  indicated  I  was  to  plump  forth- 
with ;  that  the  bath  was  just  across  the  lanai ;  breakfast  at 
eight ;  and  could  she  do  anything  for  me  ? 

In  a  few  moments  Jack  arrived,  and  we  slept  well  into  the 
new  day.  After  breakfast  the  official  " clean"  members 
of  the  colony  dropped  in,  Doctors  Goodhue  and  Hollmann, 
the  pioneer  resident  surgeon  and  his  assistant,  with  their 
wives,  as  well  as  the  German-Hawaiian  parents  of  Mrs. 
Goodhue,  who  had  tramped  down  the  pali  the  previous  day 
from  their  ranch  in  the  highlands  "  beyond  the  pale,"  to 
visit  their  daughter.  And  Jack  and  I  promptly  registered 
the  thought  that  if  they  could  negotiate  that  trail,  why 
not  we  ? 

Never  have  we  spent  such  a  day  of  strange  interest. 
Before  luncheon,  Mr.  McVeigh  drove  us  to  within  two  or 
three  hundred  yards  of  the  foot  of  the  pali,  to  see  the  Kalau- 
papa  Rifle  Club  at  practice.  And  would  you  believe? 
Quite  as  a  matter  of  course  we  sat  on  benches  side  by  side 
with  the  lepers,  and  when  our  turns  came,  stood  in  their 
shooting  boxes,  and  with  rifles  warm  from  their  hands  hit 
the  target  at  two  hundred  yards.  Oh,  I  did  not  quite  make 
the  bull's-eye,  but  there  were  certain  drawbacks  to  my  best 
marksmanship  —  the  heavy  and  unfamiliar  gun  that  I 


OUR  HAWAII  125 

had  not  the  strength  to  hold  perfectly  steady,  and  the 
audience  of  curious  men  whose  personal  characteristics  were 
far  from  quieting  to  malahini  wahine  nerves.  Both  of  us 
were  duly  decorated  with  the  proud  red  badge  of  the  Club, 
bearing  "Kalaupapa  Rifle  Club,  1907,"  in  gilt  letters. 

But  fancy  watching  these  blasted  remnants  of  humanity, 
lost  in  the  delight  of  scoring,  their  knotted  hands  holding  the 
guns,  on  the  triggers  the  stumps  of  what  had  once  been 
fingers,  while  their  poor  ruined  eyes  strove  to  run  along  the 
sights.  .  .  . 

It  took  all  our  steel,  at  first,  to  avoid  shrinking  from  their 
hideousness ;  but,  assured  as  we  were  of  the  safety  of 
mingling,  our  concern  was  earnestly  to  let  them  know  we 
were  unafraid.  And  it  made  such  a  touching  difference. 
From  out  their  watchful  silence  and  bashful  loneliness  they 
emerged  into  their  natural  care-free  Hawaiian  spirits. 

For,  you  must  know,  all  leprosy  is  not  painful.  There  is 
what  is  termed  the  anaesthetic  variety,  which  twists  and  de- 
forms but  which  ceases  from  twinging  as  the  disease  pro- 
gresses or  is  arrested,  and  the  nerves  go  to  sleep.  Another 
and  inexpressibly  loathsome  form  manifests  itself  in  running 
sores ;  but  Dr.  Goodhue  now  takes  prompt  action  on  such 
cases,  his  brave,  deft  surgery  producing  marvelous  results. 
Tubercular  leprosy  makes  swift  inroads  and  quick  disposal 
of  the  sufferer.  But  it  should  make  the  public  happier  to 
know  that  here  the  majority  of  the  patients  come  and  go 
about  the  business  of  their  lives  as  in  other  villages  the 
world  over,  if  with  less  beauty  of  face  and  form. 

In  the  afternoon,  Mr.  McVeigh  being  much  occupied  after 
his  vacation,  Dr.  Hollmann  took  us  in  charge,  and  showed 
us  first  the  Bishop  (Catholic)  Home  for  Girls,  presided  over 
by  Mother  Marianne,  the  plucky  aged  Mother  Superior  of 
Hawaii  Nei.  Here  she  spends  most  of  her  life,  two  sisters 
living  with  her.  Like  a  tall  spirit  she  guided  us  across  the 
playground  and  through  schoolrooms  and  dormitories. 
In  one  of  the  latter  we  recognized  a  young  girl  who  came  on 


126  OUR  HAWAII 

the  Noeau  last  night.  Standing  in  a  corner  talking  with 
two  old  friends  whose  faces  were  almost  obliterated,  this 
latest  comer  neither  looked  nor  acted  as  if  there  was 
anything  unusual  about  them.  She  has  a  rare  sense  of 
adjustment,  that  girl  —  or  else  is  mercifully  wanting  in 
imagination. 

It  seems  that  women  are  more  susceptible  to  the  ruin  of 
disease,  mental  or  physical,  than  their  brothers  —  at  least 
they  show  it  more  ruinously.  I  have  noticed  in  feeble- 
minded and  insanity  institutions  that  the  eclipse  of  person- 
ality is  more  complete  among  the  females.  Perhaps  it  seems 
this  way  because  we  are  used  to  especial  comeliness  in 
women,  and  to  see  a  vacant  or  disfigured  countenance  above 
feminine  habiliments  instead  of  the  sweet  flower  of  woman's 
face,  is  dreadful  beyond  the  dreadfulness  of  man's  features 
under  similar  misfortune. 
,  "Would  you  like  to  hear  the  girls  sing?" 

Like  was  hardly  the  word;  I  would  have  fled  weeping 
from  what  could  only  be  an  ordeal  to  every  one.  But  we 
could  not  refuse  good  Mother  Marianne  the  opportunity 
to  display  the  talents  of  her  pupils,  and  a  Sister  was  dis- 
patched to  summon  them. 

Draggingly  enough  they  came,  unsmiling,  their  bloated 
or  contracted  features  emerging  grotesquely  from  the  clean 
holokus.  Every  gesture  and  averted  head  showed  a  piteous 
shame  over  lost  fairness — a  sensitive  pridefulness  that  does 
not  seem  to  trouble  the  male  patients. 

Clustered  round  a  piano,  one  played  with  hands  that  were 
not  hands  —  for  where  were  the  fingers  ?  But  play  she  did, 
and  weep  I  did,  in  a  corner,  in  sheer  uncontrol  of  heartache 
at  the  girlish  voices  gone  shrill  and  sexless  and  tinny  like  the 
old  French  piano,  and  the  writhen  mouths  that  tried  to 
frame  sweet  words  carolled  in  happier  days.  They  gazed 
dumbly  at  the  white  wahine  who  grieved  for  them  —  in- 
deed, for  some  moments  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  say 
who  was  sorrier  for  the  other.  Out  of  their  horrible  eyes 


OUR  HAWAII  127 

they  watched  us  go,  and  I  wonder  if  Jack's  sad  face  and  my 
wet  cheek  were  any  solace  to  them.  But  they  called  Aloha 
bravely  as  we  went  down  the  steps,  as  did  a  group  of  girls 
under  a  hau  tree  —  one  of  whom,  a  beautiful  thing, 
crossing  the  inclosure  with  the  high-breasted,  processional 
carriage  of  the  Hawaiian,  showed  no  mark  of  the  curse  upon 
her  swart  skin  where  the  young  blood  surged  in  response  to 
our  greeting. 

The  Bay  View  Home  was  our  next  objective,  in  which  are 
kept  the  most  advanced  cases  of  the  men.  Nothing  would 
do  but  Jack  would  see  everything  to  be  seen  —  and  where  he 
goes  and  can  take  me,  there  does  he  wish  me  to  go  to  learn 
the  face,  fair  and  foul,  of  the  world  in  which  we  live.  And 
here  we  came  across  several  of  our  own  race,  with  whom  we 
talked,  and  who  appeared  quite  cheerful  —  let  us  say  phil- 
osophical. One  in  particular,  a  ghastly  white  old  man 
whose  eyes  hung  impossibly  upon  his  cheeks,  spoke  with  the 
gentlest  Christian  fortitude,  trying  to  smile  with  a  lip  that 
fanned  his  chest  —  I  do  not  exaggerate.  Only  one  there 
was  who  seemed  not  in  the  slightest  resigned  —  he  who  led 
us  among  his  brother  sufferers  in  this  house  of  tardy  dis- 
solution. 

"Do  any  of  them  ever  become  used  to  their  condition?" 

His  terrible  eyes  came  down  to  my  face  with  a  look  of  utter 
hopelessness. 

"I  have  been  here  twenty-five  years,  Mrs.  London,  and 
I  am  not  used  to  it  yet." 

Glancing  back  from  the  gate,  we  saw  him  still  standing  on 
the  lanai,  straight  and  tall,  gazing  out  over  the  sea ;  a  man 
once  wealthy  and  honored  in  his  world  —  a  senator,  in  fact. 
And  now  there  remains  nothing  before  him  after  his  two 
and  a  half  disintegrating  decades  of  exile,  but  long  years  of 
the  same  to  follow,  at  the  end  of  which  he  sees  himself,  an 
unsightly  object,  laid  in  the  ground  out  of  the  light  of 
heaven. 

There  is  one  hope,  always,  for  those  of  the  lepers  who 


128  OUR  HAWAII 

think  —  the  shining  hope  that  blessed  science,  now  aroused, 
may  discover  at  any  illuminated  moment  the  natural  enemy 
of  the  bacillus  lepra  which  has  been  isolated  and  become 
thoroughly  familiar  to  the  germ  specialists.  Jack,  visiting 
the  Kalihi  Detention  Home  and  Experiment  Station,  in 
Honolulu,  in  company  with  Mr.  Pinkham,  was  shown  the 
bacillus  leprcz  under  the  microscope.  Plans  are  under  way 
for  a  federal  experiment  laboratory  and  hospital  on  Molokai 
for  the  study  of  the  evil  germ,  "The  dirty  beast!''  Jack 
mutters  under  his  breath.  The  Settlement  itself  is  a  terri- 
torial care,  managed  by  the  Board  of  Health. 

In  another  building  we  inspected  the  little  dispensary, 
and  here  met  Annie  Kekoa,  a  half-white  telephone  opera- 
tor from  Hilo,  on  Hawaii,  daughter  of  a  native  minister. 
One  of  her  small  hands  is  very  slightly  warped ;  otherwise 
she  is  without  blemish,  and  very  charming  —  educated 
and  refined,  with  the  loveliest  brown  eyes  and  heart-shaped 
face.  Being  a  deft  typewriter,  she  is  employed  in  the  dis- 
pensary to  fill  her  days,  for  she  is  entirely  unreconciled  to 
her  changed  condition.  Little  she  spoke  of  herself,  but 
was  eager  for  news  of  Honolulu  and  our  own  travels.  We 
told  her  of  a  resemblance  she  bears  to  a  friend  at  home, 
and  she  said  in  a  shaken  voice :  "When  you  see  your  friend 
again,  tell  her  she  has  a  little  sister  on  Molokai."  At  the 
moment  of  parting,  a  sudden  impulse  caused  us  both  to 
forget  the  rules,  and  we  reached  for  each  other's  hands. 
I  know  I  shall  never  be  sorry. 

"Major"  Lee,  one-time  American  engineer  in  the  Inter- 
Island  Steamship  Company,  demonstrated  the  workings 
of  a  newly  installed  steam  poi  factory.  He  was  in  the  gay- 
est of  humors,  and  ever  so  proud  of  his  spick-and-span  ma- 
chinery. "We're  not  so  badly  off  here  as  the  Outside 
chooses  to  think,"  he  announced,  patting  a  rotund  boiler. 
And  then,  with  explosive  earnestness :  "I  say,  Mr.  London 
—  give  'em  a  breeze  about  us,  will  you  ?  Tell  Jem  how 
we  really  live.  Nobody  knows  —  nobody  has  told  half  the 


OUR  HAWAII  129 

truth  about  Molokai  and  the  splendid  way  things  are  run. 
Why,  they  give  the  impression  that  you  can  go  around  with 
a  basket  and  pick  up  fingers  and  toes  and  hands  and  feet. 
They  don't  take  the  trouble  to  find  out  the  truth,  and  no- 
body seems  to  put  'em  straight.  Why,  leprosy  doesn't 
work  that  way,  anyhow.  Things  don't  fall  off:  they  take 
up  —  they  absorb.  We've  got  our  pride,  you  know,  and 
we  don't  like  the  wrong  thing  believed  on  the  Outside,  nat- 
urally. So  you  give  the  public  a  breeze  about  us,  Mr. 
London,  and  you'll  have  the  gratitude  of  the  fellows  on 
Molokai." 

And  I  thought  I  saw,  in  Jack's  active  eye,  a  hint  of  the 
fair  breeze  to  a  gale  that  he  would  set  a-blowing  on  the  sub- 
ject of  "the  fellows  on  Molokai." 

When  "Major"  Lee  sailed  his  last  trip  on  the  old  Line, 
the  luckier  engineers  of  the  Noeau,  taking  him  to  Kalaupapa, 
said :  "Come  on  down  to  our  rooms,  and  be  comfortable." 
Lee  protested  —  No,  it  would  not  be  right;  it  wouldn't 
be  playing  the  game ;  he  was  a  leper  now,  a  leper,  do  you 
hear?  —  and  things  were  different,  old  fellows.  .  .  .  "Dif- 
ferent, your  granny ! "  and  with  friendly  oaths  and  suspi- 
cious movements  of  shirtsleeves  across  eyes,  the  chief 
and  his  men  had  their  old  comrade  into  their  quarters  and 
gave  him  the  best  they  had,  even  to  a  stirrup-cup  —  an 
infringement  of  orders,  as  alcohol  is  the  best  accomplice  of 
leprosy. 

Leaving  Kalaupapa,  we  drove  to  the  elder  village,  Kala- 
wao,  across  the  mile  of  the  rolling  peninsula,  a  pathway 
of  beauty  from  the  iron-bound,  surf-fountained  sea  line,  to 
the  grandeurs  of  the  persistent  pali  to  the  south,  which  is 
beyond  word-painting,  unfolding  like  a  giant  panorama 
even  along  that  scant  mile.  Such  crannied  canyons, 
crowded  with  ferns ;  such  shelves  for  waterfalls  that  banner 
out  in  the  searching  wind ;  such  green  of  tree  and  purple 
of  shadow.  Midway  of  the  trip,  Dr.  Hollmann  turned  to 
the  left  up  a  short,  steep  knoll,  from  the  top  of  which 


i3o  OUR   HAWAII 

our  eyes  dropped  into  a  tiny  crater  —  deep,  emerald  cup 
jeweled  with  red  stones,  a  deeper  emerald  pool  in  the  bot- 
tom, fringed  with  clashing  sisal  swords.  We  came  near 
having  a  more  intimate  view  of  the  inverted  cone,  for  a 
sudden  powerful  gust  of  the  strong  trade  that  sweeps  the 
peninsula  caught  us  off  guard  and  obliged  us  to  lean  sharply 
back  against  the  blast.  Descending  the  outer  slopes  of  the 
miniature  extinct  volcano,  we  poked  around  for  a  while 
amidst  some  nameless  graves,  the  old  cement  mounds  and 
decorations  crumbling  to  dust.  The  place  was  provocative 
of  much  speculation  upon  human  destiny. 

In  Kalawao  we  called  at  the  Catholic  Home  for  Boys, 
presided  over  by  Father  Emmerau  and  the  Brothers, 
and  met  up  with  Brother  Button,  veteran  of  the  Civil 
War,  Thirteenth  Wisconsin,  who  later  entered  the  priest- 
hood, and  has  immolated  himself  for  years  among  the 
leper  youth.  We  found  him  very  entertaining,  as  he 
found  Jack,  with  whose  career  he  proved  himself  well 
acquainted. 

And  then  across  the  road  to  a  little  churchyard,  we  stood 
beside  the  tombstone  of  Father  Damien  —  name  revered 
by  every  one  who  knows  how  this  simple  Belgian  priest 
came  to  no  sanitary,  law-abiding,  well-ordered  community 
such  as  to-day  adorns  the  shunned  triangle  of  lowland. 
He  realized  his  destination  before  he  leaped  from  the  boat ; 
and,  once  ashore,  did  not  shrink  nor  turn  back  from  the 
fearful  duty  he  had  imposed  upon  himself.  A  life  of  toil  and 
a  fearful  lingering  death  were  the  forfeit  of  this  true  martyr 
of  modern  times.  We  have  seen  photographs  of  him  in  the 
progressing  stages  of  his  torment,  and  nothing  more  fright- 
ful can  be  conjured. 

Never  did  we  think  to  stand  beside  his  grave.  Just  a 
little  oblong  plot  of  carefully  tended  green,  inclosed  in  iron 
railing,  with  a  white  marble  cross  and  a  foot-stone  —  that 
is  all ;  appropriately  simple  for  the  simple  worker,  as  is  the 
Damien  Chapel  alongside,  into  which  we  stepped  with  the 


OUR  HAWAII  131 

Bishop,  our  fellow  passenger  on  the  Noeau,  and  Fathers 
Emmerau  and  Maxime,  to  see  the  modest  altar.  Standing 
there  before  the  plain  shrine  in  the  subdued  light,  it  seemed 
as  if  there  could  have  been  no  death  for  the  devoted  young 
foreign  priest  who  came  so  far  to  lay  down  his  life  for  his 
friends. 

After  dinner,  cooked  by  the  pretty  Japanese  Masa  and 
her  husband,  during  which  I  learned  to  like  the  sweet,  dried 
squid,  the  other  household  came  over  to  our  lanai.  And 
while  we  talked,  in  through  the  twilight  stole  vibrations  of 
swept  strings,  and  the  sob  of  a  violin,  and  voices  of  the 
men's  "Glee  Club"  that  wove  in  perfect  harmonies  — 
voices  thrilling  as  the  metal  strings  but  sharpened  and 
thinned  by  the  corroded  throats  of  the  singers.  Think  — 
think  —  there  we  sat  in  plenitude  of  health  and  circum- 
stance, while  at  the  gate,  through  which  none  but  the  clean 
may  ever  stray,  outside  the  pale  of  ordinary  human  asso- 
ciation, these  poor  pariahs,  these  shapes  that  once  were 
men  in  a  world  of  men,  sang  to  us,  the  whole,  the  fortunate, 
who  possess  return  passage  for  that  free  world,  the  Outside 
-  lost  world  to  them. 

They  sang  on  and  on,  the  melting  Hawaiian  songs,  charm- 
ing "Ua  Like  No  a  Like,"  and  "Dargie  Hula,"  "Mauna 
Kea"  beloved  of  Jack,  and  his  more  than  favorite,  Kala- 
kaua's  "Sweet  Lei  Lehua,"  with  tripping,  ripping  hula  airs 
unnumbered.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  bewitched,  to  Mr. 
McVeigh's  low  "Good  night,  boys,"  their  last  Queen's 
"Aloha  Oe,"  with  its  fadeless  "Love  to  You,"  that  has 
helped  to  make  Hawaii  the  Heart-Home  of  countless  lovers 
the  world  over,  laid  the  uttermost  touch  of  eloquence  upon 
the  strange  occasion.  The  sweet-souled  musicians,  who 
in  their  extremity  could  offer  pleasure  of  sound  if  not  of 
sight  to  us  happy  ones,  melted  away  in  the  blue  starlight, 
the  hulaing  of  their  voices  that  could  not  cease  abruptly, 
drifting  faint  and  fainter  on  the  wind. 


132  OUR  HAWAII 

KALAUPAPA,  Wednesday,  July  3,  1907. 

"Quick!  First  thought!  Where  are  you?"  Jack 
quizzed,  as  through  the  jasmine  we  peered  at  a  score  of 
vociferous  lepers  running  impromptu  horse  races  on  the 
rounding  face  of  the  green.  Remote,  fearsome  Molokai, 
where  the  wretched  victims  of  an  Asiatic  blight  try  out  their 
own  fine  animals  for  the  prize  events  of  the  Glorious  Fourth ! 
"Some  paradox,"  murmurs  Jack.  And  all  forenoon  we 
listened  to  no  less  than  four  separate  and  distinct  brass 
bands  practicing  in  regardless  fervor  for  the  great  day. 
Laughing,  chattering  wahines  bustled  about  the  sunny 
landscape,  carrying  rolls  of  calico  and  bunting;  for  they, 
too,  will  turn  out  in  force  on  the  morrow  to  show  how  the 
women  of  Hawaii  once  rode  everywhere  in  the  kingdom  — 
following  upon  that  gift  of  the  first  horse  by  Captain  Cook 
to  Kamehameha  —  astride  in  long,  flowing  skirts  of  bright 
colors  —  the  pa'u  riders  of  familiar  illustrations. 

Mr.  McVeigh,  satisfaction  limned  upon  his  Gaelic  counte- 
nance at  all  this  gay  preparation,  is  much  occupied,  together 
with  his  kokuas  (helpers),  in  an  effort  to  forestall  another 
brand  of  conviviality  that  is  unendingly  sought  by  the  lepers 
on  their  feast  days ;  and,  denied  all  forms  of  alcohol,  they 
slyly  distil  "swipes"  from  anything  and  everything  that 
will  ferment  —  even  potatoes. 

But  the  lusty  Superintendent  was  not  too  busy  to  plan 
our  entertainment  for  the  afternoon,  which  took  the  shape 
of  a  ride  to  the  little  valleys  of  the  pali.  There  was  an  odd 
assortment  of  mounts  —  every  one  of  which,  despite  the 
appearance  of  two  I  could  name,  was  excellent  in  its  way. 
Mr.  McVeigh's  solid  weight  was  borne  by  a  big  dapple- 
gray,  while  Dr.  Hollmann  bestrode  a  stocky  bay ;  and  Miss 
Kalama  Myers,  the  strapping  handsome  sister  of  Mrs. 
Goodhue,  sat  a  tall,  black  charger.  Jack's  allotment  was 
a  stout,  small-footed  beastie  little  larger  than  a  Shetland, 
and  to  me  fell  a  disappointingly  undersized,  gentle-seeming 


OUR  HAWAII  133 

white  palfrey.  To  my  observant  eye,  Jack  looked  more  than 
courtesy  would  allow  him  to  express,  for  his  appearance  was 
highly  ridiculous.  Although  of  medium  height,  five  feet 
nine  inches,  his  feet  hung  absurdly  near  the  ground,  and  his 
small  Australian  saddle  nearly  covered  the  pony's  back. 

We  ambled  along  for  a  short  distance,  when  our  host's 
huge  gray  suddenly  bolted,  followed  by  the  others,  and  I  as 
suddenly  became  aware  that  my  husband  was  no  longer  by 
my  side.  The  next  instant  I  was  in  the  thick  of  a  small 
stampede  across  country,  the  meekness  of  the  milk-white 
palfrey  a  patent  delusion  and  snare,  while  Jack's  inadequate 
scrap,  leaping  like  a  jackrabbit,  had  outdistanced  the  larger 
horses.  Every  one  was  laughing  uproariously,  and  Jack,  now 
enjoying  the  practical  joke  played  on  us  both,  waved  an  arm 
and  disappeared  down  Damien  Road  in  a  cloud  of  red  dust. 

Pulling  up  to  a  decorous  gait  through  Kalawao,  we  left 
the  peninsula  and  held  on  around  the  base  of  the  pali  till 
the  spent  breakers  washed  our  trail,  where  a  tremendous 
wall  of  volcanic  rock  rose  abruptly  on  the  right.  The  trail 
for  the  most  part  was  over  bowlders  covered  with  seaweed, 
and  we  two  came  to  appreciate  these  pig-headed  little  horses 
whose  faultless  bare  hoofs,  carried  us  unslipping  on  the 
precarious  footing. 

Skirting  the  outleaning  black  wall,  we  looked  ahead  to  a 
coast  line  of  lordly  promontories  that  rise  beachless  from 
out  the  peacock-blue  deep  water,  between  which  are  grand 
valleys  inaccessible  except  by  boat  and  then  only  in  calm 
weather.  Two  of  these  valleys,  Pelekunu  and  Wailau,  con- 
tain settlements  of  non-leprous  Hawaiians,  who  live  much 
as  they  did  before  the  discovery  of  the  Islands,  although 
they  now  sell  their  produce  to  the  Leper  Settlement. 

Turning  into  the  broad  entrance  of  a  swiftly  narrowing 
cleft  called  Waikolu,  we  rode  as  far  as  the  horses  could  go, 
and  some  pretty  problems  were  set  them  on  the  sliding, 
crumbling  trail ;  and  we  overheard  the  Superintendent's 
undertone  to  Dr,  Goodhue :  "  No  malihini  riders  with  us 


i34  OUR   HAWAII 

to-day ! "  which  is  encouragement  that  we  may  be  per- 
mitted to  travel  the  coveted  zigzag  out  of  the  Settlement. 
Then  tethering  them  in  the  kukui  shade,  we  proceeded  on 
foot  up  a  steep,  muddy  path  where  the  vegetation,  drenched 
overnight  with  rain,  in  turn  drenched  us  and  cooled  our 
perspiring  skins.  Except  for  the  trail  —  and  for  all  we 
knew  that  might  have  been  a  wild-pig  run  —  the  valley 
appeared  innocent  of  man;  but  presently  we  gained  to 
where  orderly  patches  of  water  taro  with  its  heart-shaped 
leaves  terraced  the  steep,  like  a  nursery  of  lilies,  and 
glimpsed  idyllic  pictures  of  grass-houses  built  on  ferny  ledges 
of  the  mountain  side,  shaded  by  large-leaved  banana  and 
breadfruit  trees,  and  learned  that  in  these  upland  vales  live 
certain  of  the  lepers  who,  preferring  an  agricultural  life, 
furnish  the  Settlement  with  vegetables  and  fruit.  And  we 
tried  some  ''mountain  apples,"  the  ohia'ai,  as  distinguished 
from  the  ohia  lehua  which  furnishes  a  beautiful  dark  hard- 
wood. This  fruit  is  pear-shaped,  red  and  varnished  as 
cherries,  and  sweet  and  pulpy  like  marshmallows.  Here 
were  also  many  lauhala  trees,  from  the  flat  and  pointed 
leaves  of  which  mats  and  hats  are  woven,  while  the  orange- 
colored  flowers  were  an  old  favorite  for  the  making  of  leis. 
Jack's  imagination  went  a-roving  over  the  possibilities : 
"Why,  look  here,  Mate  Woman,"  he  planned,  "we  could, 
if  ever  we  contracted  leprosy,  live  here  according  to  our 
means.  I  could  go  on  writing  and  earning  money,  and  we 
could  have  a  mountain  place,  a  town  house  down  in  the 
village,  a  bungalow  anywhere  on  the  seashore  that  suited 
us,  set  up  our  own  dairy  with  imported  Jerseys,  and  ride 
our  own  horses,  as  well  as  sail  our  own  yacht  —  within 
the  prescribed  radius,  of  course  —  and  let  Dr.  Goodhue 
experiment  on  our -cure  !  —  Isn't  it  all  practical  enough?" 
this  to  the  grinning  "Jack"  McVeigh,  who  was  regarding 
him  with  unconcealed  delight,  and  who  assured  us  he  wished 
us  no  harm,  but  for  the  pleasure  of  our  company  he  could 
almost  hope  the  plan  might  come  to  pass ! 


OUR  HAWAII  135 

Hours  Jack  spends  " cramming"  on  leprosy  from  every 
book  on  the  subject  that  the  doctors  have  in  their  libraries. 
And  literally  it  is  one  of  the  themes  about  which  what  is  not 
known  fills  many  volumes.  The  only  point  upon  which 
all  agree  is  that  they  are  sure  of  nothing  as  regards  the 
means  by  which  the  disease  is  communicated.  The  nearest 
they  can  hazard  is  that  it  is  feebly  contagious,  and  that  a 
person  to  contract  it  must  have  a  predisposition.  Thus, 
one  might  enter  the  warm  blankets  of  a  leper  just  risen,  and, 
by  hours  of  contact  with  the  effluvia  therein,  "catch"  the 
disease.  The  same  if  one  slept  long  in  touch  with  a  victim 

—  and  then  only  if  one  had  the  predisposition.     And  who 
is  to  know  if  the  predisposition  be  his?     Certain  theories 
as  to  the  mode  of  contagion  were  given  us  as  settled  facts 
by  the  authorities  of  the  Lazar  Hospital  in  Havana,  where 
we  first  became  interested  in  leprosy ;  but  that  there  is  little 
dependence  to  be  placed  on  these  opinions  is  borne  out  by 
at  least  two  known  cases  on  Molokai :    one,  a  native  who 
has  remained  " clean"  though  living  with  a  wife  so  far  gone 
that  she  attends  to  her  yearly  babies  with  her  deft  feet ; 
and  the  other,  a  woman  who  has  buried  five  successive 
leprous  husbands,  and  has  failed  to  contract  the  disease. 

We  recall  that  in  Havana  we  were  assured  that  no  attend- 
ant, no  white  person  living  for  years  within  the  confines  of 
the  institution,  had  ever  become  afflicted ;  and  the  same 
is  held  on  Molokai  —  which  reports  make  us,  as  visitors, 
feel  secure.  On  the  other  hand,  several  of  the  few  white 
men  here  assert  that  they  are  absolutely  ignorant  as  to  the 
means  of  their  own  contagion,  not  having,  to  their  knowl- 
edge, been  exposed.  One  of  these  is  a  village  storekeeper, 
a  healthy,  hearty  fellow  whom  we  have  seen  riding  about 
in  smart  togs  on  a  good  horse.  He  possesses  but  one  spot 

—  on  one  foot  —  which  to  date  has  neither  increased  nor 
diminished.     When   he   discovered    the    "  damned   spot," 
promptly  he  reported  himself  to  the  Board  of  Health ;   and 
here  he  makes  the  splendid  courageous  best  of  his  situation. 


136  OUR  HAWAII 

No  cure  of  leprosy  has  ever  been  discovered.  But  oc- 
casionally some  patient  is  found  upon  bacteriological  ex- 
amination to  have  no  leprosy  in  him  —  never  having  had 
leprosy.  Such  are  discharged  from  the  Settlement.  And 
nine  times  out  of  ten,  they  do  not  want  to  go,  and  will  prac- 
tice any  innocent  fraud  to  retain  residence  in  the  place  that 
has  become  a  congenial  home. 

In  some  ways  the  inhabitants  of  this  peninsula  are  the 
happiest  in  the  world.  Food  and  shelter  are  automatic; 
pocket-money  may  be  earned.  Several  private  individuals 
conduct  stores.  The  helpers,  kokuas,  are  in  the  main  lepers, 
and  earn  their  salaries.  The  Board  of  Health  carries  on 
agriculture,  dairying,  stock-raising,  and  the  members  of  the 
colony  are  paid  for  their  labor,  and  themselves  own  many 
heads  of  cattle  and  horses  which  run  pasture-free  over 
some  5000  acres.  The  men  possess  their  fishing  boats  and 
launches,  and  sell  fish  to  the  Board  of  Health  for  Settlement 
consumption.  Sometimes  a  catch  of  4000  pounds  is  made 
in  a  night.  It  is  not  an  unhappy  community  —  quite  the 
reverse.  And  their  religions  are  not  interfered  with,  which 
is  amply  shown  by  the  six  different  churches  that  flourish 
here.  Also  there  is  a  Young  Men's  Christian  Association. 

Long  we  rested  on  the  Goodhue  lanai  to-night,  and  long 
the  shadowy  leper  orchestra  serenaded  beyond  the  hibiscus 
hedges,  while  some  one  recalled  a  story  of  Charles  Warren 
Stoddard's  "Joe  of  Lahaina,"  in  which  a  Hawaiian  boy, 
bright  companion  of  other  days,  crept  to  the  gateway  in 
the  dusk,  and  there  from  the  dust  called  to  his  old  friend. 
Forever  separated,  they  talked  of  old  times  when  they  had 
walked  arm  in  arm,  and  arms  about  shoulders,  in  Sweet 
Lahaina. 

KALAUPAPA,  Thursday,  July  4,  1907. 

This  morning  we  were  shocked  from  dreams  by  noises  so 
strange  as  to  make  us  wonder  if  we  were  not  struggling  in 
nightmare  —  unearthly  cackling  mirth  and  guttural  shout- 


OUR  HAWAII  137 

ings  and  half-animal  cries  that  hurried  us  into  kimonos  and 
sandals  to  join  our  household  at  the  gate  where  they  were 
watching  a  scene  as  weird  as  the  ghastly  din.  Only  a  little 
after  five  o'clock,  the  atmosphere  was  fittingly  vague,  and 
overhead  we  heard  the  rasping  cry  of  a  bosun  bird,  puae. 
In  the  eery  whispering  dawn  there  gamboled  a  score  or  so 
" horribles,"  men  and  women  already  horrible  enough, 
God  wot,  and  but  thinly  disguised  in  all  manner  of  extrava- 
gant costumings.  They  wore  masks  of  home  manufacture, 
in  which  the  makers  had  unwittingly  imitated  the  lamen- 
table grotesquerie  of  the  accustomed  features  of  their 
companions  —  the  lopping  mouth,  knobby  or  almost  ef- 
faced noses,  flapping  ears ;  while,  equally  correct  in  simili- 
tude, the  hue  of  these  false-true  visages  was  invariably 
an  unpleasant,  pestilent  yellow.  Great  heaven !  —  do  our 
normal  countenances  appear  abnormal  to  them  ? 

Some  of  the  actors  in  this  serio-comic  performance  were 
astride  cavorting  horses,  some  on  foot ;  and  one,  an  agile 
clown  in  spots  and  frills,  seemed  neither  afoot  nor  horse- 
back, in  a  way  of  speaking,  for  he  traveled  in  company  with 
a  trained  donkey  that  lay  down  peaceably  whenever  it  was 
mounted.  One  motley  harlequin,  whose  ghostly  white 
mask  did  not  conceal  a  huge  bulbous  ear,  exhibited  with 
dramatic  gesture  and  native  elocution  a  dancing  bear  per- 
sonified by  a  man  in  a  brown  shag  to  represent  fur. 

And  all  the  while  the  crowd  kept  up  a  running  fire  of  jokes 
and  mimicry  that  showed  no  mean  originality  and  talent. 

In  the  silvering  light  across  the  dewy  hemisphere  a  caval- 
cade of  pa'u  riders  took  shape,  coming  on  larger  and  larger 
with  a  soft  thunder  of  thudding  hoofs,  wild  draperies  straight 
out  behind  in  the  speeding  rush,  and  drawing  up  with  a 
flourish,  horses  on  haunches,  before  the  Superintendent's 
house.  The  vivid  hues  of  the  long  skirts  began  to  grow  in 
the  increasing  daylight  —  some  of  them  scarlet,  some  blue, 
or  orange,  while  one  proud  equestrienne  sued  for  favor  with 
a  flaunting  panoply  of  Fourth  of  July  red,  white,  and  blue. 


138  OUR  HAWAII 

Many  of  the  girls  were  mercifully  still  comely,  even 
pretty,  and  rode  superbly,  handling  their  curvetting  steeds 
with  reckless  grace  and  ease,  and  I  could  hear  Jack's  kodak, 
the  same  that  he  used  in  the  Japanese-Russian  War  three 
years  ago,  clicking  repeatedly  despite  the  early  hour. 

All  forenoon  these  gala-colored  horsewomen  trooped  sing- 
ing and  calling  over  the  rises  and  hollows  of  the  countryside, 
to  incessant  blaring  of  the  bands  of  both  villages  combined. 
The  whole  was  a  picture  of  old  Hawaii  not  to  be  found 
elsewhere  in  the  Territory,  and  certainly  nowhere  else  in 
the  world.  For  no  set  reproduction  of  the  bygone  customs 
could  equal  this  whole-souled  exhibition,  costumed  from 
simple  materials  by  older  women  who  remembered  days  of 
the  past,  carried  out  in  the  natural  order  of  life  in  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  spots  in  the  Islands,  if  not  on  the  globe. 
No  description  can  depict  the  sight  that  was  ours  the  fore- 
noon long.  Jack  was  wordless  so  far  as  concerned  his  work, 
and  gave  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  experience. 

To  our  distress,  we  were  appointed,  along  with  Mrs. 
Myers,  to  award  prizes  at  the  race  track.  We  feared  "  get- 
ting in  wrong,"  as  Jack  put  it,  by  injudicious  choices  among 
the  contestants,  with  whom  we  wanted  to  leave  a  fair  im- 
pression. But  Jack  McVeigh  pooh-poohed  our  diffidence, 
and  insisted  that  we  serve  on  the  committee.  Horseback 
we  went  to  the  races,  and  found  the  track  like  any  other, 
with  its  grand  stand,  its  judges,  its  betting  and  bickering  — 
the  betting  running  as  high  as  $150  —  its  well-bred  horses, 
and  wild  excitement  when  the  jockeys  came  under  the 
wire. 

Jack  tied  his  fractious  pony,  and  I  saw  him  on  foot  over 
by  the  judges'  stand,  waving  arms  and  cowboy  hat  and 
yelling  himself  hoarse,  just  as  crazy  as  the  crowd  of  lepers 
he  jostled,  who  were  as  crazy  as  he.  I  knew  he  was  having 
the  time  of  his  life,  close  to  life  as  it  is  lived  on  Molokai  over- 
sea. Later,  he  was  conversing  soberly  with  a  Norwegian 
and  his  wife,  both  patients,  who  told  us  we  had  no  idea  what 


(i)  Princess  Likelike  (Mrs.  Cleghorn).     (2)  Princess  Victoria  Kaiulani. 
(3)  Kaiulani  at  Ainahau.     (4)  "Kaiulani's  Banyan." 


OUR  HAWAII  139 

it  meant  to  them  all  for  us  to  come  here  and  mingle  among 
them  as  friends,  and  that  people  were  very  happy  about  it. 
This  was  sweet  tidings,  for  the  lepers  are  so  little  forward  in 
manners  that  invariably  we  must  accost  them  first,  where- 
upon they  break  into  the  smiling  Aloha  of  their  land. 

Between  heats,  there  were  footraces,  and  screaming  sack 
races,  and  races  to  the  slowest,  in  which  Jack  McVeigh 
figured  on  the  rump  of  a  balking  donkey,  and  won ;  then 
followed  a  wahine  contest  of  speed,  and  a  wahine  horse  race. 

But  the  most  imposing  event  of  the  afternoon,  as  of  the 
morning,  was  enacted  by  the  pa'u  riders,  who  paced  leisurely 
in  stately  procession  once  around  the  course,  then  circled 
once  in  a  swinging  canter,  and,  finally,  with  mad  whoopings, 
broke  into  a  headlong  stampede  that  swept  twice  and  a  half 
around  before  the  Amazons  could  win  control  of  their  ex- 
cited animals.  A  truly  gorgeous  spectacle  it  was,  the  flying 
horses  with  their  streaming  beribboned  tails,  the  glowing 
riders,  long  curling  hair  outblown,  and  floating  draperies 
painting  the  track  with  brilliant  color  —  all  mortal  decay 
a  thing  forgot  of  actors  and  onlookers  alike,  in  one  grand 
frolic  of  bounding  vitality  and  youth. 

"Can  you  beat  it!  Can  you  beat  it!"  Jack  panted 
ecstatically. 

The  three  prizes  were  for  $5,  $3,  and  $2,  and  it  would 
not  be  guessing  widely  to  say  that  they  came  out  of 
the  private  pocket  of  McVeigh,  along  with  numerous  other 
gifts  during  the  day.  He  is  not  the  man  to  go  about  with 
his  heart's  good  intentions  pinned  on  his  sleeve  —  indeed,  a 
supersensitive  character  would  be  out  of  place  as  manager 
of  such  an  institution ;  but  hand  in  hand  with  iron  will  and 
executive  ability,  he  carries  a  heart  as  big  as  the  charge  he 
keeps,  and  a  keen  gray  eye  quick  to  the  needs  of  his  children, 
as  he  calls  them. 

The  three  beaming  winners  galloped  abreast  once  around 
the  track,  and  then  rode  out ;  but  suddenly  the  buxom  wa- 
hine, bright  and  bold  of  eye  and  irresistible  of  smile,  who 


i4o  OUR  HAWAII 

had  taken  second,  wheeled  about  and  came  to  attention  be- 
fore the  judges'  stand  with  the  request,  to  our  great  surprise, 
that  I  ride  once  around  with  her.  "Oh,  do,  do!"  Jack 
under  his  breath  instantly  prompted,  fearing  I  might 
hesitate  to  make  myself  so  conspicuous.  Of  course  I 
mounted  forthwith,  and  together  we  pranced  the  circuit,  to 
deafening  cheers  from  hundreds  of  throats. 

But  I  was  not  riding  with  a  leper,  as  we  had  thought,  for 
it  turned  out  that  this  inviting  girl  is  a  kokua,  an  assistant 
at  the  surgery,  from  whom  the  bid  to  ride  with  her  was  in 
the  best  Kalaupapa  social  usage. 

The  Superintendent's  big  dinner  was  a  signal  triumph, 
and  he  handled  the  mixed  company  with  rare  tact,  sev- 
eral factions  being  represented.  But  even  the  grave  and 
gentle  Bishop  Liebert  and  the  Fathers  warmed  to  his 
kindly  and  ready  humor,  and  soon  all  were  under  the  spell 
of  Kalama's  perfumed  garlands  and  the  really  sumptuous 
feast  that  Masa  and  her  husband,  aided  by  the  ladies,  had 
prepared.  Jack  and  I  were  in  still  raptures  over  Mrs. 
Goodhue,  whose  sparkling  beauty,  crowned  with  a  scarlet 
carnation  lei,  was  something  to  gladden  the  heart. 

Following  several  merry  toasts,  Mr.  McVeigh  rose  and 
raised  his  glass  to  "The  Londons  —  Jack  and  Charmian, 
God  bless  them ! "  And  went  on  to  confess  to  a  warm  regard 
that  touched  us  deeply.  For  he  has  given  us  his  confidence 
during  the  past  day  or  two  in  a  way  that  has  mightily 
pleased  us.  At  the  end  of  the  little  speech,  breaking  into 
his  engaging  smile  of  eyes  and  lips,  he  announced  that  he 
knew  all  present  would  wish  us  well  upon  our  departure, 
which  was  approaching  all  too  soon,  etc.,  etc.,  and  which 
would  be  via  the  pali  trail ;  and  that  Mrs.  London  should 
ride  the  best  horse  on  Molokai  —  his  mule  Makaha ! 

By  the  time  we  arrived  at  Beretania  Hall  for  the  even- 
ing entertainment,  it  was  crammed  to  suffocation  with  a 
joyful  crowd  of  lepers,  orchestra  in  place,  resting  on  their 
violins,  banjos,  guitars  and  ukuleles.  After  they  had  opened 


OUR  HAWAII  141 

with  Star-Spangled  Banner  and  several  Hawaiian  selections, 
a  willowy  young  woman,  graceful  as  a  nymph  but  with  face 
as  horrible  as  her  body  was  lovely,  rendered  a  popular  light- 
some song  in  tones  that  had  lost  all  semblance  to  music. 
Half-caste  she  is,  traveled  and  cultured,  once  a  beauty  in 
Honolulu,  whose  native  mother's  bank  account  is  in  seven 
figures.  And  this  girl,  in  the  blossom-time  of  life,  with  death 
overtaking  in  long  strides,  bereft  of  comeliness,  awful  to 
behold,  and  having  known  the  best  that  life  has  to  bestow, 
rises  superior  to  life  and  death,  and,  foremost  in  courage, 
surpasses  the  gayest  of  her  sisters  in  misfortune.  What 
material  for  a  Victor  Hugo  1 

At  the  end  of  an  hour,  we  left  the  fantastic  company  danc- 
ing as  lustily  as  it  had  sung  and  laughed  and  ridden  the 
gladsome  day  through.  No  one,  listening  outside  to  the 
unrestrained  merrymaking,  could  have  guessed  the  band 
of  abbreviated  human  wrecks,  their  distorted  shadows 
monstrous  in  the  flickering  lamplight,  performing,  uncon- 
cernedly for  once,  their  Dance  of  Death. 

KALAUPAPA,  Friday,  July  5,  1907. 

Let  none  say  that  great  men,  capable  of  noble  martyr- 
dom, have  ceased  from  the  earth  in  this  day  and  age. 
And  Dr.  William  J.  G.  Goodhue,  with  his  exceeding 
modesty,  would  be  the  first  to  protest  any  association  of 
his  pleasant  name  with  such  holy  company.  But  no 
outsider,  entering  upon  the  scene  of  his  wonderful  and 
precarious  operations  in  tissue  and  bone  diseased  with 
the  mysterious  curse  of  the  ages,  could  doubt  that  he  had 
come  face  to  face  with  one  who  spares  himself  not  from 
peril  of  worse  than  sudden  death. 

Ungloved,  his  sole  protection  vested  in  caution  against 
abrading  his  skin,  and  an  antiseptic  washing  before  and 
after  his  work,  the  man  of  empirical  science  waded  elbow- 
deep  into  the  unclean  menace  upon  the  operating  table. 


142  OUR  HAWAII 

He  was  assisted  by  two  women  nurses,  one  Hawaiian,  one 
Portuguese,  and  both  with  a  slight  touch  of  anaesthetic 
leprosy. 

The  first  subject  to-day  was  a  middle-aged  wahine, 
jolly  and  rolling  fat,  who  was  borne  in  laughing  and  borne 
out  laughing  again.  In  between  were  but  a  few  self- 
pitying  moans  when  she  raised  her  head  to  watch  the 
doctor.  We  had  every  proof  that  she  knew  no  pain,  nor 
even  discomfort ;  but  the  sight  of  copiously  flowing  blood 
caused  her  to  weep  and  wail  "Auwe!"  until  one  of  the 
nurses  said  something  that  made  her  laugh  in  spite  of 
herself.  The  sole  of  her  foot  had  thickened  two  inches, 
and  she  had  not  stepped  upon  it  for  a  couple  of  years. 
Into  this  dulled  pad,  lengthwise,  the  cool  surgeon  cut 
clean  to  the  diseased  bone,  which  he  painstakingly  scraped, 
explaining  that  the  blood  itself  remains  pure,  only  the 
tissues  and  bone  being  attacked  by  the  bacillus  leprce. 

But  the  second  patient,  a  good-looking  lad  who  came  on 
the  Noeau  with  us,  was  victim  of  a  terrible  case  of  the  most 
loathsome  and  agonizing  sort,  which  made  it  necessary  to 
anaesthetize  him  —  Dr.  Hollman  using  the  slow  and  safe 
"A.  C.  E."  (Alcohol,  one  part;  Chloroform,  two  parts; 
Ether,  three  parts).  The  only  visible  spot  was  a  running 
sore  forward  of  and  below  the  left  shoulder;  but  what 
appeared  on  the  surface  was  nothing  to  that  which  the 
knife  divulged. 

Although  the  details  are  not  pretty,  and  I  shall  not 
harrow  with  more  of  them,  I  wish  I  could  picture  the  calm, 
pale  surgeon,  with  his  intensely  dark-blue  eyes  and  the 
profile  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  whose  kinsman  he  is, 
working  with  master  strokes  that  cleansed  the  deep  cavity 
of  corruption ;  for  it  was  an  illustration  of  the  finest  art 
of  which  the  human  is  capable. 

And  now  this  boy  may  possibly  be  quite  healthy  for  the 
rest  of  a  natural  life,  and  die  of  some  other  malady  or  of 
old  age.  Again,  the  bacillus  at  any  time  may  resume  its 


OUR  HAWAII  143 

destructive  inroads  elsewhere  in  his  system.  There  are 
myriad  unknown  quantities  about  leprosy.  All  Dr. 
Goodhue,  with  his  sad  and  charming  smile,  can  say  about 
it  with  finality,  is  : 

"The  more  I  study  and  learn  about  leprosy,  the  less 
assurance  I  have  in  saying  that  I  know  anything  about  it !" 

By  this  evening  all  troubadour  spirit  was  quenched,  and 
no  minstrelsy  greeted  our  postprandial  lolling  on  the  lanai. 
No  voice  above  a  night-bird's  disturbed  the  quiet  of  tired 
Kalaupapa.  And  we  also  were  weary,  for  seeing  the  opera- 
tions, although  not  our  first,  claimed  a  certain  measure 
of  nervous  energy ;  besides,  we  had  ridden  hard  to  another 
rugged  valley  in  the  late  afternoon,  goat-hunting  on  the 
crags,  and  were  ready  for  early  bed.  In  passing,  I  must 
not  forget  to  relate  that  we  were  shown  some  black-and- 
white-striped  mosquitoes  up-valley,  the  proper  carriers 
of  yellow  fever  —  though  Heaven  forbid  that  they  ever 
have  a  chance  to  carry  it ! 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Myers,  those  delightful  souls,  to-day  as- 
cended the  baking  pali  on  foot,  to  prepare  for  our  coming 
on  the  morrow,  when  we  shall  have  accomplished  the  hair- 
raising  path  of  the  long-forbidden  exit  from  Kalaupapa. 
Now  that  permission  has  been  graciously  accorded,  the 
witty  Jack  McVeigh  enlarges  continually  upon  the  diffi- 
culties and  dangers  of  the  route. 

WAIKIKI,  Sunday,  July  7,  1907. 

At  eleven  o'clock  yesterday,  on  our  diminutive  animals, 
we  bade  farewell  to  our  friends  under  the  cluster  of  kukuis 
where  they  had  accompanied  us  on  the  beginning  of  the 
ascent,  and  proceeded  to  wage  the  sky-questing,  arid 
pathway,  for  this  section  of  the  pali  is  almost  bare  of 
vegetation.  Short  stretches  as  scary  we  have  ridden;  it 
is  the  length  of  this  climb  that  tries  —  angling  upon  the 
stark  face  of  a  2300-foot  barrier. 


144  OUR  HAWAII 

They  told  me,  when  I  bestrode  the  short  strong  back  of 
the  little  mule  Makaha,  to  "stay  by  her  until  the  summit 
is  reached.  She  never  fails. "  Implicitly  I  obeyed,  for  the 
very  good  reason  that  I  would  have  been  loath  to  trust 
my  own  feet,  let  alone  my  head.  Never  a  stumble  did 
her  tiny  twinkling  hoofs  make,  even  where  loose  stony 
soil  crumbled  and  fell  a  thousand  feet  and  more  into  the 
sea  that  wrinkled  oilily  far  below;  and  the  hardy  muscle 
and  lungs  of  her  seemed  to  put  forth  no  unusual  effort. 
But  Jack  and  the  Hawaiian  mail  carrier,  who  led  the  way, 
were  obliged  several  times  to  dismount  where  the  insecure 
vantage  was  too  much  for  the  quivering,  dripping  ponies, 
although  they  are  accustomed  to  the  work.  Once,  from 
the  repairing  above,  some  rubble  fell,  fortunately  curving 
clear.  Makaha,  who  has  a  few  rudimentary  nerves  of  her 
own,  shied,  but  instantly  recovered,  only  to  shy  again  at  a 
bag  of  tools  by  the  trailside. 

Sometimes  an  angle  was  so  acute  that  our  beasts  were 
forced  to  swing  on  hind  legs  to  reach  the  upper  zigzag, 
where  poised  front  hoofs  must  grip  into  sliding  stones  or 
feel  for  hold  amidst  large,  fixed  rocks,  and  the  rider  lay 
himself  on  the  horse's  neck.  A  miss  meant  something 
less  than  a  half  mile  of  catapultic  descent  through  blue 
space  into  the  blue  ocean.  Once  Jack  glimpsed  destruc- 
tion from  the  guide's  horse  that  slipped  and  scrambled 
and  almost  went  off  the  zigzag  immediately  overhead.  I, 
at  a  turn  below,  saw  the  peril  to  Jack,  and  knew  my  first 
real  anxiety.  But  the  gray  pony  regained  his  feet  amid 
flying  gravel.  There  were  places  where  it  seemed  in- 
credible that  anything  less  agile  than  a  goat  could  stick. 

"Gee!  I  don't  wonder  McVeigh  won't  let  malihinis  go 
out  this  way,"  Jack  called  down,  craning  his  neck  to  see 
the  base  of  the  sea-washed  rampart,  and  failing.  "It  is 
worse  than  its  reputation!" 

The  Settlement  lay  stretched  in  the  noonday  sun,  like 
the  green  map  of  a  peninsula  in  a  turquoise  sea.  And  we 


OUR  HAWAII  145 

amused  ourselves,  while  resting  the  animals,  picking  out 
landmarks  familiar  to  us. 

"  There's  McVeigh's  house,  and  the  Doctor's,  where 
you  see  that  bunch  of  trees,"  Jack  pointed,  "and  I'll  bet 
he's  following  us  every  inch  with  that  telescope  of  his. 
Let's  wave  our  arms  for  luck." 

A  short  distance  from  the  summit  we  joined  the  rebuilt 
portion  of  the  trail,  and  passed  the  time  of  day  with  the 
stolid  Japanese  laborers  and  their  bright-eyed  foreman. 
Six  feet  wide,  some  parts  railed,  to  our  pinched  vision  it 
appeared  a  spacious  boulevard.  Our  sensations,  now 
speedily  at  the  top  and  looking  over,  must  have  been 
something  like  those  of  Jack  of  Beanstalk  fame  when  he 
found  a  verdant  level  plain  at  the  end  of  his  clambering. 
Here  was  a  prairie  of  green  hillocks  browsed  by  fat  cattle, 
and  threaded  by  a  red  road.  A  roomy  family  carriage 
waited,  driven  by  a  stalwart  son  of  the  Myers',  and  we 
parted  from  the  guide,  patting  our  little  beasts  before 
he  led  them  back  to  the  "falling-off  place."  A  mule  of 
parts,  that  canny  small  Makaha.  I  shall  not  see  her  like 
again. 

The  restful  drive  of  a  couple  of  miles  through  rich  pasture 
land  dotted  with  guava  shrub  brought  us  to  the  home  of 
the  Myers  family,  in  the  midst  of  a  6o,ooo-acre  ranch. 
There  are  no  hotel  facilities  whatever  on  Molokai,  which 
is  forty  miles  long  by  ten  in  breadth,  and  the  visitor  without 
friends  and  friends  of  friends  on  the  island  will  see  little  un- 
less equipped  for  camping.  The  climate  in  these  islands  is 
mild  and  cool,  the  hills  and  ruggeder  mountains  interspersed 
with  meadows,  where  spotted  Japanese  deer  have  become 
so  numerous  that  shooting  them  is  a  favor  to  the  ranchers. 
Kalama,  that  fine  all-round  sport,  had  begged  us  to  come 
sometime  and  go  with  her  for  a  week's  hunting. 

High  Molokai  should  be  a  paradise  for  sportsmen,  and 
it  is  surprising  the  Territory  does  not  get  together  with 
the  owners  and  try  to  develop  facilities  at  Kaunakakai 


146  OUR  HAWAII 

for  housing,  and  transportation  into  the  back  country, 
which  is  surpassingly  beautiful  and  interesting.  Some- 
where on  the  coast  there  is  an  old  battlefield  where  count- 
less human  bones  still  whiten ;  and  on  the  rocky  coast  to 
the  south  can  be  seen  in  shallow  water  the  ruins  of  miles 
of  ancient  fish  ponds  equaled  nowhere  in  the  group.  On 
the  northwest  one  glimpses  Oahu,  cloud-capped  and  shim- 
mering in  the  blue,  while  Haleakala  bulks  ten  thousand  feet 
in  air  on  Maui  to  the  east. 

This  ranch  home  is  buried  in  flowers,  and  my  unbelief 
in  begonias  a  dozen  feet  high  underwent  rude  check.  A 
fairy  forest  of  them  surrounds  the  guest  cottage,  casting 
a  rosy  shadow  on  window  and  lanai.  I  should  have  been 
content  to  remain  here  indefinitely.  Little  Miss  Mabel, 
sweet  sixteen,  entertained  us  charmingly,  and  during 
luncheon,  served  by  a  butterfly  maid  of  Japan,  the  tele- 
phone jingled,  and  Kalama  down  in  Kalaupapa  was  telling 
us  to  be  sure  to  swim  in  the  cement  irrigation  reservoir 
before  starting  for  the  hot  drive  to  the  steamer.  Which 
we  did,  and  many  thanks. 

On  the  ten-mile  rolling  descent  to  the  port,  Kaunanakai, 
there  was  ample  chance  to  observe  this  side  of  the  sup- 
posedly melancholy  isle,  and  Jack,  noticing  dry  creeks 
and  the  general  thirsty  appearance  of  the  lower  foothills, 
descanted  upon  its  rich  future  when  irrigation  schemes  are 
worked  out  and  applied.  As  it  is  now,  only  in  the  rainy 
season  do  the  streams  flow. 

Dashing  native  cowboys,  bound  for  a  wedding  luau, 
passed  us  on  the  road,  teeth  and  eyes  flashing,  gay  neck- 
erchiefs about  their  Ringing  brown  throats,  and  hat- 
brims  blown  back  from  their  vivid  faces,  out- Westing  the 
West. 

Kaunanakai  itself  is  not  especially  attractive,  and  during 
two  hours'  waiting  for  the  Iwilani,  we  occupied  ourselves 
keeping  as  comfortable  as  possible,  for  July  is  hot  on  the 
leeward  sides  of  the  "  Sandwich  Islands." 


OUR  HAWAII  147 

Once  aboard,  and  our  luggage,  taken  on  at  Kalaupapa, 
safely  located,  we  watched  the  loading  of  freight  and  live- 
stock on  the  little  steamer.  Between  the  deep  rolling  of 
the  ship  and  the  din  and  odor  of  seasick  swine  for'ard, 
there  was  little  rest  the  night.  And  the  Steamship  Com- 
pany has  a  very  unceremonious  way  of  dumping  its  pas- 
sengers ashore  in  Honolulu  at  the  most  heathenish  hours. 
The  car  lines  had  not  yet  started  when  we  stood  yawning 
and  chill  beside  our  bags  and  saddles  on  the  wharf,  and 
Jack  was  obliged  to  wake  a  hackman  to  drive  us  to  Waikiki. 
The  city  lay  dead  but  for  an  occasional  milk-wagon,  and 
after  all  we  did  not  grudge  ourselves  the  dawning  love- 
liness of  the  morning  —  an  unearthly  gray-silver  luminance 
wherein  a  large  lemon-tinted  moon  melted  in  a  pale  lilac 
sky.  It  was  like  a  miracle,  this  swift  awakening  of  the 
growing  earth.  Birds  stretched  into  song,  the  water-taro 
rustled  in  a  fitful  wind,  young  ducks  stirred  and  fluffed 
their  night-damp  feathers  on  the  edges  of  the  ponds,  where 
lilies  opened  to  the  brightening  waves  of  light,  while  the 
broken  slaty  mountains  in  the  background  shifted  their 
graying  curtains  of  shimmering  rain.  Diamond  Head  de- 
veloped slowly  into  the  scene,  like  a  photographed  moun- 
tain in  a  dark-room,  and  took  opalescent  shades  of  dove 
and  rose.  Creation  might  have  been  like  this !  And  we 
recalled  Mascagni's  "  Iris,"  for  it  seemed  as  if  all  living 
things  burgeoned  visibly  on  the  warm  awakening  earth. 

Tochigi  had  to  be  roused  at  the  brown  tent,  and  despite 
drowsiness  Jack  plunged  into  an  accumulation  of  mail  and 
other  work  before  breakfast.  "  We  have  to  work  hard  for 
our  outings,  don't  we,  Mate  Woman?"  he  called  to  me, 
his  smile  broadening  into  a  yawn.  "  But  it  makes  us  ap- 
preciate them  the  more !  " 

And  all  through  the  busy  morning  hours,  and  the  surf- 
boarding  and  swimming  and  romping  of  the  afternoon,  of 
all  the  remarkable  impressions  of  that  astounding  week 
on  Molokai,  the  pali  endured.  Again  and  again  we  seem 


148  OUR  HAWAII 

to  cling  to  the  impossible  face  of  it,  creeping  foot  by  foot, 
alert,  tense,  unafraid  except  for  each  other.  .  .  .x 

WAIKIKI,  Thursday,  July  n,  1907. 

In  a  fine  frenzy  to  give  a  just  presentation  of  the  Leper 
Settlement,  Jack  has  lost  no  time  finishing  the  promised 
article,  "The  Lepers  of  Molokai." 

In  it  he  gives  a  picture  of  himself  having  a  "  disgracefully 
good  time,"  yelling  at  the  track-side  with  the  lepers  when 
the  horses  came  under  the  wire,  and  presently  branches  off 
into  a  serious  consideration  of  the  situation,  interspersed 
with  bright  items  of  life  in  the  Settlement.  The  article  is 
highly  approved  by  Mr.  Pinkham,  and  Mr.  Thurston  avers 
it  is  the  best  and  fairest  that  has  ever  been  written.  Jack 
is  modestly  elated,  because  he  has  succeeded  in  pleasing 
both  these  men  who  happen  to  be  far  from  friendly  in 
the  general  affairs  of  the  Territory.  And,  best  of  every- 
thing, to  Jack,  in  all  honest  enthusiasm  he  has  pleased 
himself. 

Although  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Health  is  entirely 
satisfied  with  himself  and  with  the  article,  as  well  as  with 
Jack's  press  interviews  regarding  the  trip,  several  prominent 
citizens  have  expressed  themselves  to  the  official  as  highly 
indignant  that  we  should  have  been  allowed  in  the  Settle- 
ment. But  the  imperturbable  Pinkham  has  told  them 
with  asperity  that  it  does  not  profit  them  or  Hawaii  to 
imitate  ostriches  and  simulate  obliviousness  of  the  fact 
that  the  world  knows  of  leprosy  in  Hawaii.  And  why 
should  Hawaii  be  supersensitive  ?  Leprosy  is  not  unknown 
in  the  large  cities  even  of  America ;  and  Hawaii  should  be 
proud  to  advertise  her  magnificent  system  of  segregation, 
unequaled  anywhere  in  the  world,  and  be  glad  to  have  it 
exploited  by  men  of  conscience  and  intelligence. 

1 A  few  weeks  after  our  ascent,  one  of  the  Japanese  laborers  fell  1500 
feet  in  the  clear. 


OUR  HAWAII  149 

WAILUKU,  MAUI,  Sunday,  July  14,  1907. 

Two  evenings  gone,  in  company  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Thurston,  we  boarded  the  Claudine,  which,  though  much 
larger  than  the  Noeau,  pitched  disgustingly  in  the  head- 
sea  of  Kaiwi  Channel,  and  took  more  than  spray  over  the 
upper  deck  for'ard  where  were  our  staterooms.  Jack 
and  I  fell  unexpectedly  sick,  and  our  friends  likewise, 
although  not  unexpectedly.  Lorrin  Thurston  has  trav- 
ersed these  channels  since  boyhood,  and  never  does  he 
cease  from  acute  suffering  during  frequent  crossings. 

A  swarm  of  Japanese  sailed  steerage  and  outside  on  the 
lower  deck,  each  bearing  a  matted  bundle  exactly  like  his 
neighbor's,  the  women  carrying  their  possessions  wrapped 
in  gorgeously  printed  challies  in  which  a  stunning  orange 
was  most  conspicuous  among  vivid  blues  and  greens  and 
intermediate  purples.  Early  in  the  trip  all  were  laid  low 
in  everything  but  clamor,  and  from  our  deck  we  could  see 
the  poor  things  in  every  stage  of  disheartened  deshabille, 
pretty  matron  and  maiden  alike  careless  of  elaborate 
chignon  falling  awry,  the  men  quite  chivalrously  trying 
to  ease  their  women's  misery  in  the  pauses  of  their  own. 

Kahului,  our  destination,  is  on  the  northern  shore  of 
the  isthmus  connecting  West  Maui  with  the  greater  Halea- 
kala  section  of  this  practically  double  island;  but  Mr. 
Thurston's  emotions  were  of  such  intensity  that  around 
midnight  he  crept  weakly  to  our  latticed  door  and  sug- 
gested we  disembark  at  Lahaina,  the  first  port,  finish 
the  night  at  the  hotel,  and  in  the  morning  drive  around 
the  Peninsula  of  West  Maui  to  Wailuku. 

Nothing  loath  to  escape  the  roughest  part  of  the  passage, 
doubling  that  disturbing  headland,  we  dressed  and  gathered 
our  hand-luggage;  and  at  half  past  one  in  the  morning 
dropped  over  the  Claudine's  swaying  black  side.  As  we 
clung  in  the  chubby,  chopping  boat,  manned  by  natives 
with  long  oars,  dimly  we  could  make  out  dark  towering 


150  OUR  HAWAII 

heights  against  the  starry  sky,  and  on  either  side  heard 
the  near  breakers  swish  and  hiss  warningly  upon  the 
coral.  And  all  about,  near  and  far,  burned  the  slanting 
flares  of  fishermen,  the  flames  touching  the  black  water 
with  elongated  dancing  sparkles.  Voices  floated  after 
from  the  anchored  steamer,  and  ghostly  hoof -beats  clattered 
faint  but  distinct  from  the  invisible  streets  of  the  old,  old 
town.  As  at  Molokai,  shadowy  hands  helped  us  upon  the 
wharf  —  and  the  tender  witchery  of  the  night  fled  before 
the  babble  of  hackmen,  stamping  of  mosquito-bitten 
horses,  a  lost  and  yelping  dachshund  pup  that  insisted 
on  being  trod  upon,  and  the  huge  red-faced  hotel  pro- 
prietor of  an  unornamental  wooden  hostelry,  its  dingy 
entrance  lighted  with  smoking  kerosene  lamps. 

"  Beautiful  Lahaina,"  warbles  Isabella  Bird  Bishop,  in 
her  charming  book  "Hawaii";  "Sleepy  Lahaina,"  she 
ecstatically  trills  —  and  she  is  not  the  only  writer  who  has 
sung  the  praises  of  this  town  of  royal  preference,  once  the 
prosperous  capital  of  the  kingdom,  and  the  oldest  white 
settlement,  where  touched  the  whaling  ships  that  some- 
times anchored  fifty  strong  off  shore.  But  this  prosperity 
entailed  disease  and  death,  since  the  adventurous  sailors 
were  given  free  run  by  their  unscrupulous  captains.  The 
village  dwindled  to  less  than  a  wraith  of  its  former  opulence, 
much  of  the  original  site  now  being  planted  to  cane.  A 
little  distance  above,  the  old  Lahainalua  Seminary,  founded 
in  1831,  still  flourishes,  maintaining  its  reputation  as  an 
excellent  industrial  school.  At  the  start  the  scholars 
supported  themselves  by  cultivating  land  granted  by  the 
chiefs  to  the  school,  and  were  obliged  to  build  the  school- 
house  and  their  own  lodgings.  Later  on  a  printing  press 
and  book  bindery  were  established,  and  the  institution 
did  much  of  the  printing  of  text  books  in  use.  The  very 
first  Hawaiian  sheet,  Lama  Hawaii,  was  published  here, 
preceding  the  Kumu  Hawaii,  at  Honolulu. 

And  the  reader  of  Isabella  Bird  yearns  for  Lahaina 


OUR  HAWAII  151 

above  all  bournes;  he  cannot  wait  to  test  for  himself 
Lahaina's  spell  of  loveliness  and  repose.  But  this  repose 
must  belong  to  the  broad  day,  or  else  the  gallant  lady's 
mosquito  net  was  longer  than  ours,  which  cruelly  refused 
to  make  connection  with  the  coverlet.  Jack's  priceless 
perorations  will  ever  be  lost  to  posterity,  for  I  shall  repeat 
them  not. 

In  the  morning,  Mrs.  Thurston  peeped  laughingly  in 
and  asked  if  I  knew  my  husband's  whereabouts;  and  I, 
waking  solitary,  confessed  that  I  did  not,  although  I  seemed 
to  recall  his  desertion  in  a  blue  cloud  of  vituperation 
against  all  red-headed  hotel  hosts  and  stinging  pests.  Mrs. 
Thurston,  viewing  the  blushing  morn  from  the  second-story 
veranda,  had  come  upon  the  weary  boy  fast  asleep  on  the 
hard  boards,  blanket  over  head  and  feet  exposed,  and 
led  me  to  where  he  lay.  But  none  more  vigorously  fam- 
ished than  he,  when  we  sat  in  an  open-air  breakfast-room, 
table  spread  with  land  fruit  and  sea  fruit ;  for  Mr.  Thurston 
had  been  abroad  early  to  make  sure  the  repast  should  be 
an  ideal  one  after  our  hard  night  —  fish  from  the  torchlight 
anglers,  alligator  pears  dead-ripe  out  of  the  garden,  and 
the  famous  luscious  mangoes  of  Lahaina,  the  best  in  the 
Islands. 

"And  me  for  the  good  coffee!"  Jack  appreciated,  for 
he  suspicioned  that  the  quiet  but  efficient  man  had  been 
also  in  the  kitchen,  and  he  loves  his  coffee  when  it  is  coffee. 
Rather  reticent  upon  first  acquaintance,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Thurston  have  blossomed  into  the  most  cordial  and  witty 
of  comrades,  ready  for  anything. 

Mrs.  Bishop,  in  the  seventies,  spoke  of  Lahaina  as  "an 
oasis  in  a  dazzling  desert."  The  dazzling  desert  has  been 
made  to  produce  the  cane  for  two  great  sugar  mills  whose 
plantations  spread  their  green  over  everything  in  sight 
to  the  feet  of  the  sudden  mountains  rent  by  terrific  chasms 
rising  6000  feet  behind  the  village.  Once  this  was  a  mis- 
sionary center  as  well  as  the  regular  port  of  call  for  the 


152  OUR  HAWAII 

devastating  whale  ships.  The  deserted  missionary  house, 
fallen  into  decay  these  long  years,  is  still  landmark  of  a 
Lahaina  that  but  few  live  to  remember. 

The  streets  of  the  drowsy  town  are  thickly  shaded  by 
coconuts,  breadfruit  with  its  glossy  truncated  leaves  and 
green  globes,  monkey-pod,  kukui,  bananas,  and  avocados ; 
and  before  we  bade  farewell  to  Lahaina,  Mr.  Thurston 
drew  up  beside  an  enormous  mango  tree,  benefactor  of 
his  boyhood,  where  an  obliging  Hawaiian  policeman,  in 
whose  garden  it  grows,  with  his  pretty  wife  threw  rocks 
to  bring  down  a  lapful  of  the  ripe  fruit  —  deep  yellow, 
with  crimson  cheeks,  a  variety  known  as  the  "chutney" 
mango. 

It  is  some  twenty-three  scenic  miles  from  Lahaina  to 
Wailuku,  and  the  road  runs  for  a  distance  through  tall  sugar 
cane,  then  begins  an  easy  ascent  to  where  it  is  cut  into  the 
sides  of  steep  and  barren  volcanic  hills  above  the  sea.  There 
was  a  glorious  surf  running,  and  for  miles  we  could  gaze 
almost  straight  down  to  the  water,  in  some  places  catching 
glimpses  of  shoals  of  black  fish  in  the  blue  brine  where 
there  was  no  beach  and  deep  ocean  washed  the  feet  of  the 
cliffs. 

Jack  has  blue-penciled  my  description  of  the  capital 
luncheon  arranged  in  advance  by  Mr.  Thurston,  holding 
that  although  I  write  best  on  the  subject  of  food,  my 
readers  may  become  bored.  So  I  shall  pass  on  to  lao 
Valley  (E-ah-o  —  quickly  E-ow)  where  we  drove  in  the 
afternoon,  following  the  Wailuku  River  several  miles  to 
the  valley  mouth. 

lao  has  been  pronounced  by  travelers  quite  as  wonderful 
in  its  way  as  Yosemite.  I  should  not  think  of  comparing 
the  two,  because  of  their  wide  difference.  The  walls  of 
lao  are  as  high,  but  appear  higher,  since  the  floor,  if  floor 
it  can  be  called,  is  much  narrower.  Most  gulches  in 
Hawaii  draw  together  from  a  wide  entrance ;  but  in  lao 
this  is  reversed,  for,  once  the  narrow  ascending  ingress  is 


OUR  HAWAII  153 

passed,  the  straight  walls  open  like  the  covers  of  a  book 
which  Dore  might  have  illustrated,  the  valley  widening 
into  an  amphitheater  of  unsurpassable  grandeur.  On  the 
ferned  and  mossed  walls  of  the  entrance  hang  festoons  of 
deep-trumpeted,  blue  convolvulae  between  slender  dracena 
palms  and  far-reaching  branches  of  silvery  kukuis,  quiver- 
ing or  softly  swaying  in  passing  airs. 

It  is  ridiculous  to  try  to  give  any  impression  of  the  pro- 
digious palisades,  with  their  springing  bastions,  the  needled 
peaks,  shimmering  tropical  growth  of  tree  and  vine,  burst- 
ing, sounding  falls  of  watercourses  rushing  headlong  over 
mighty  bowlders,  the  swift-rolling  glory  of  clouds,  cast- 
ing showers  of  gold  upon  joyous  green  pinnacles  or  with 
deep  violet  shadow  turning  these  into  awful  fingers  point- 
ing to  the  zenith;  nor  can  one  fitly  characterize  the 
climate  —  the  zephyrs  warm  and  the  wind-puffs  cool  that 
poured  over  us  where  we  lay  on  a  table-land,  reached  by 
trail  through  a  sylvan  jungle  of  ferns,  in  matted  grass  so 
deep  and  dense  that  we  never  felt  the  solid  earth. 

Long  we  rested  and  marveled,  surrounded  by  impregnable 
fastnesses,  speaking  little,  in  an  ecstasy  at  this  superlatively 
grand  and  beautiful  cleft,  at  its  head,  lord  of  all  lesser 
peaks  and  spires  and  domes,  Puu  Kukui  springing  nearly 
6000  feet  into  the  torn  sky.  There  are  other  valleys  back 
of  Puu  Kukui,  as  beautiful  as  lao,  but  more  difficult  of 
access.  It  is  said  by  the  few  who  have  ascended,  that  the 
view  from  the  top  of  Puu  Kukui  is  away  and  beyond  any- 
thing they  have  ever  seen. 

There  is  but  one  way  out  of  lao,  as  usual  in  these  monster 
gulches  of  Hawaii,  and  that  is  the  way  in.  Old  warriors 
learned  this  to  their  rue,  caught  by  Kamehameha  in  the 
sanguinary  battle  that  completed  his  conquest  of  Maui, 
when  their  blood  stained  the  waters  of  the  stream  as  it 
flowed  seaward,  which  henceforth  bore  the  name  of  Wai- 
luku,  "Red  Water." 

From  our  high  vantage,  looking  seaward,  down  past  the 


154  OUR  HAWAII 

interlacing  bases  of  emerald  steeps  eroded  by  falling  waters 
of  aeons,  the  vision  included  the  plains  country  beneath, 
all  rose  and  yellow  and  green  with  cultivated  abundance, 
bordered  at  the  sea-rim  by  white  lines  of  surf  inside  bays 
and  out  around  jutting  points  and  promontories,  the 
sapphire  deep  beyond,  and  upon  the  utmost  indigo  horizon 
pillowy  trade  clouds  low-lying  —  all  the  splendor  softened 
into  tremulous,  glowing  mystic  fairyland.  "Hawaii  her- 
self, in  all  the  buxom  beauty,  roving  industry  .  .  .  with 
all  the  bravery  and  grace  of  her  natural  scenery." 

One  pursues  one's  being  in  Hawaii  within  an  incessant 
atmosphere  of  wonder  and  expectation  —  ah,  I  have  seen 
Yosemite,  the  Grand  Canyon,  the  Alps,  the  Swiss  lakes ;  but 
Hawaii  is  different,  partaking  of  these,  and  still  different, 
and  more  elusively  wonderful.  Even  now,  as  I  write  of 
what  our  eyes  have  gloried  in,  they  behold  mighty  roofless 
Haleakala,  ancient  House  of  the  Sun,  its  ragged  battle- 
ments piercing  two  miles  into  the  ether,  above  the  cloud- 
banners  of  sunset. 


HALEAKALA  RANCH,  MAUI,  Monday,  July  15,  1907. 

Believe — except  one  be  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind,  there 
is  no  boredom  in  these  Islands.  Indeed,  one  must  avoid 
bewilderment  among  the  myriad  attractions  that  fill  the 
days  to  overflowing.  Little  opportunity  was  ours  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  the  old  town  of  Wailuku,  with  its 
picturesque  population  of  natives  and  immigrants,  for 
yesterday's  program  included  a  private-car  trip  over  the 
Hawaii  Commercial  and  Kihei  Sugar  Companies'  vast 
plantations.  We  were  the  guests  of  Mr.  J.  N.  S.  Williams, 
superintendent  of  the  Kahului  Railroad  Company,  who 
entertained  us  at  Kahului,  where  we  went  aboard  the  car. 
There  was  a  bustling  air  of  activity  and  newness  about  the 
port  town — track-laying,  boat-loading,  house-building ;  and 
in  the  harbor  swung  at  anchor  a  big  freighter  of  the  Amer- 


OUR  HAWAII  155 

ican-Hawaiian  Line,  unloading  on  lighters  and  receiving 
sugar  by  the  same  means. 

Waving  fields  of  cane  occupy  practically  all  the  lowland 
between  the  two  sections  of  Maui,  spreading  into  the 
slopes  of  Haleakala's  foothills  and  extending  well  around 
to  the  "windward"  side  of  the  island.  The  trip  included 
a  visit  to  one  of  the  mills  and  a  descent  some  four  hundred 
feet  into  the  shaft  of  Kihei's  pumping  station,  where  we 
were  conducted  by  a  young  football  giant  from  Chicago, 
Paul  Bell,  who  was  regretting  that  his  work  would  prevent 
him  from  accepting  an  invitation  to  accompany  our  party 
through  the  crater. 

At  the  village  of  Paia,  with  its  streetful  of  alluring 
Japanese  shops,  we  transferred  to  carriages  for  an  eight- 
mile  drive  to  this  stock  ranch  2000  feet  up  Haleakala. 
Seen  from  afar,  the  mountain  appears  simple  enough  in 
conformation,  smooth  and  gradual  in  rise.  At  closer  range 
the  rise  is  gradual,  to  be  sure,  but  varied  by  ravines  that  are 
valleys,  and  by  level  pastures,  and  broken  by  ancient  blow- 
holes and  hillocks  that  are  miniature  mountains  as  symmet- 
rical as  Fujiyama.  It  is  almost  disappointing  —  one  has 
a  right  to  expect  more  spectacular  perpendicularity  of  a 
i o,ooo-foot  mountain.  Even  now,  from  where  we  sit  on  a 
shelf  of  lawn,  under  a  tree  with  a  playhouse  in  its  boughs, 
it  is  impossible  to  realize  that  the  summit,  free  for  once  of 
cloud,  is  still  8000  feet  above,  so  lazily  it  leans  back.  And 
looking  downward,  never  have  our  eyes  taken  in  so  much 
of  the  world  from  any  single  point. 

Louis  von  Tempsky,  English-Polish,  son  of  the  last 
British  officer  killed  in  the  Maori  War,  handsome,  wiry, 
military  of  bearing  and  discipline,  is  manager  of  this  ranch 
of  sixty  thousand-odd  acres.  He  came  to  Hawaii  years 
ago  on  a  vacation  from  his  New  Zealand  bank  cashier  ship, 
and  he  never  went  back  —  "Shanghaied,"  says  Jack. 
One  cannot  blame  the  man.  Here  he  is  able  to  live  to 
the  full  the  life  he  loves,  with  those  he  loves  —  the  big  free 


156  OUR  HAWAII 

life  of  saddle  and  boundless  miles,  with  his  own  fireside 
(and  one  needs  a  fireside  up  here  oi  an  evening)  at  the  end 
of  the  day.  His  wife,  Amy,  was>6orn  in  Queen  Emma's 
house  in  Honolulu,  of  English  parentage.  Her  father, 
Major  J.  H.  Wodehouse,  was  appointed  English  Minister  to 
Hawaii  about  three  years  before  annexation  to  the  United 
States  took  place,  and  now,  her-  in  England,  is  retired 
upon  a  pension. 

And  such  a  family  they  are  —  the  beautiful  home-queen 
of  a  mother  with  the  handsome  father  of  their  sturdy 
brood,  two  daughters  in  their  early  teens,  who  are  boys  in 
the  saddle  and  cowboys  at  that ;  and  a  small  maid  of  four, 
Lorna,  who  rides  her  own  pony.  And  lastly,  a  small  pre- 
cious son  who  is  not  quite  old  enough  to  cross  a  saddletree. 

The  climate  is  much  like  California's  in  the  mountains, 
and  very  refreshing  after  the  sea-level  midsummer  heat. 
This  bracing  air  makes  one  feel  younger  by  years.  Life 
here  is  ideal  —  a  rambling  old  house,  with  a  drawing-room 
that  is  half  lanai,  hung  with  good  pictures,  furnished  with 
a  good  library  and  piano,  and  fine- matted  couches  deep  in 
cushions ;  a  cozy  dining-room  where  one  comes  dressed  for 
dinner,  and  a  commodious  guest-wing  where  Jack  and  I 
have  two  rooms  and  bath,  and  he  can  work  in  comfort. 

The  lawn  is  in  a  two-sided,  sheltered  court,  intersected 
with  red-brick  v  *-<=  and  lilies  grow  everywhere.  From 
our  books  on  ^  "C1'de  a  little  fountain  under  t- 

trees  where  M  ^nd  step> 

the  lilies  to  t1  'vv 

sloping  from  ^^i<_t.  £ 

green  pavilioi.,  we  seem  detached  from  the  univer 
viewing  it.     Terrace  upon  terrace  of  hills  w 
paigns  of  gr«.en  speckled  with  little  rosy  crate^ 
turned  up  to  sun  and  shower ;  and  off  in  the  b 
s .     °nd  sky,  other  islands,  dim  and  palpitating  lit          ^6es. 
:s  that  Maui,  the  second  largest  island, 'con tains 
square  miles  and  that  it  is  10,000  feet  high ;  but  what 


UUR  HAWAII  157 

are  figured  confines  when  apparently  the  whole  world  of  land 
and  sea  is  spread  before  one's  eyes  on  every  hand !  Hand 
in  hand,  we  look,  and  k  ok,  and  try  to  grasp  the  far-flung 
magnitude,  feeling  very  small  in  its  midst.  "Beautiful's  no 
name  for  it,"  breathes  Jack ;  and  through  my  mind  runs  a 
verse  of  Mrs.  Browning's,  a  favorite  of  my  childhood  at 
Auntie's  knee : 

"We  walk  hand  in  hand  in  the  pure  golden  ether, 
And  the  lilies  look  large  as  the  trees ; 
And  as  loud  as  the  birds  sing  the  bloom-loving  bees  — 
And  the  birds  sing  like  angels,  so  mystical-fine, 

While  the  cedars  are  brushing  the  Archangel's  feet. 
And  Life  is  eternity,  Love  is  divine, 
And  the  world  is  complete." 

This  morning  early  we  were  out  looking  over  our  mounts 
and  seeing  that  our  saddles,  brought  from  home,  were  in 
good  shape.  "I  love  the  old  gear!"  Jack  said,  caressing 
the  leather,  well  worn  on  many  a  journey  these  two  years. 
A  cattle-drive  and  branding,  with  colt-breaking  to  follow, 
were  the  business  of  the  day.  At  ten  we  galloped  away 
from  the  corrals,  and  Jack  and  I  went  right  into  the 
work  with  Mr.  Von  Tempsky  and  his  girls,  Armine  and 
Gwendolen,  and  the  native  cowboys,  to  round  up  the 
cattle.  Oddly  enough,  although  borr^  >d  . raised  in  the 
t,  we  two  have  sailed  over  two  t  ;^  j:<miles  to  ex- 
>nce  our  £*c+  vn^eo. 

1  u''  ;mec     .fi,be  tried  out 
s-  well-gaited 

dtothee>v.       Ui  ^pur  ar^ther  person's 

took  occasion  to  *w^  very  ruefrl  when  my 
ig  alongside,  inquired:    "Are  y^u  Laving  a 
He  could  see  that  I  was  not,  and  sensed 
wu^  Ae  advised  me  not  to  spare  the  spur,  add' 

"  There  isn't  a  better  cattle  pony,  when  she  kr 
mean  business!" 


158  OUR  HAWAII 

And  oh,  these  "kanaka"  horses,  with  their  sure  feet! 
And  oh,  the  wild  rushes  across  grassland  that  has  no  pit- 
falls—  gophers  are  unknown,  —  thudding  over  the  dust- 
less,  springing  turf,  hurdling  the  higher  growth,  whirling 
"on  a  cowskin"  to  cut  off  stray  or  willful  steers,  and 
making  headlong  runs  after  the  racing  herd.  All  the  while, 
with  Armine  and  Gwendolen,  taking  commands  from 
General  Daddy,  and  sitting  tight  our  eager  horses,  fairly 
streaking  the  landscape  in  ordered  fright  to  head  off  the 
runaways,  the  young  girls  with  hair  flying,  sombreros  down 
backs,  cheeks  glowing,  eyes  sparkling,  utterly  devoted  to 
the  work  in  hand  —  striving  their  best  for  ultimate  praise 
from  Daddy. 

Miles  we  covered,  doubling  back  and  forth,  searching 
out  and  driving  the  bellowing  kine;  up  and  down  steep 
ravines  we  chased  them,  along  narrow  soft-sliding  trails 
on  stiff  inclines,  turning  to  pathless  footing  to  keep  them 
going  in  the  right  direction.  And  the  farther  afield  we 
rode,  the  farther  stretched  the  limitless  reaches  of  that 
deceiving  mountain. 

At  last  the  herds  were  converged  toward  a  large  gate 
not  far  from  the  outlying  corrals,  and  after  a  lively  tussle 
we  rounded  up  all  but  one  recalcitrant  —  a  quarter-grown, 
black-and-white  calf  that  outran  a  dozen  of  us  for  half 
an  hour  before  we  got  him. 

Promptly  followed  the  segregation  of  those  to  be  marked ; 
the  throwing  of  calves  in  the  dusty  corral,  and  their  wild 
blatting  when  the  cowboys  trapped  them,  neck  and  thigh, 
with  the  lasso;  the  restless  circling  of  the  penned  beasts 
waiting  their  turns;  the  trained  horses  standing  braced 
against  lariats  thrown  from  their  backs  into  the  seething 
mass ;  the  rising,  pungent  smoke  of  burning  hair  and  hide 
as  the  branding  irons  bit ;  then  the  frantic  scrambling  of 
the  released  ones  to  lose  themselves  in  the  herd. 

Together  with  several  neighbors  who  had  ridden  over, 
we  sat  fence-high  on  a  little  platform  overlooking  the 


OUR  HAWAII  159 

strenuous  scene,  and  when  the  branding  was  finished,  the 
colt-breaking  began,  in  which  the  Von  Tempsky  children 
took  the  most  intense  interest,  as  did  we.  Their  father 
superintended  his  efficient  force  of  native  trainers  in  their 
work  of  handling  three-year-old  colts  that  had  never 
known  human  touch  nor  feel  of  rope,  which  made  a  Buffalo 
Bill  show  seem  tame  indeed.  For  breathless  hours  we 
watched  the  making  of  docile  saddlers,  all  being  finally 
subdued  but  one,  which  threatened  to  prove  an  " outlaw." 
After  the  "buck"  has  been  taken  out  of  the  young  things, 
they  are  tied  up  all  night  to  the  corral  fence,  and  in  the 
morning  are  expected  to  be  tractable,  with  all  tendency  to 
pull  back  knocked  out  of  them  forever. 

"And  some  are  sulky,  while  some  will  plunge, 

(So  ho  I  Steady!  Stand  still,  you!) 
Some  you  must  gentle,  and  some  you  must  lunge, 

(There!  There!    Who  wants  to  kill  you!) 
Some  —  there  are  losses  in  every  trade  — 
Will  break  their  hearts  ere  bitted  and  made ; 
Will  fight  like  fiends  as  the  rope  cuts  hard, 
And  die  dumb-mad  in  the  breaking-yard." 

UKULELE,  ON  HALEAKALA,  Tuesday,  July  16,  1907. 

Thirteen  strong,  we  rode  out  from  the  ranch  house  this 
morning,  on  the  second  phase  of  our  week's  trip  in  the 
crater  and  on  around  through  the  Nahiku  " Ditch"  country. 
Besides  the  cowboys,  gladsome  brown  fellows,  overjoyed 
to  go  along,  there  were  seven  in  the  party,  with  a  goodly 
string  of  pack  animals  tailing  out  behind.  And  bless  my 
soul !  if  there  wasn't  Louisa,  meekly  plodding  under  a 
burden  of  tent-poles  and  other  gear.  For  Mr.  Von  Temp- 
sky  had  now  allotted  me  his  own  Welshman,  "the  best 
horse  on  the  mountain,"  he  declared. 

Fifty-four  hundred  feet  above  sea  level,  our  initial 
stop  was  here  at  Ukulele,  the  dairy  headquarters  of  the 
ranch.  Why  Ukulele,  we  are  at  loss  to  know,  for  nothing 


160  OUR  HAWAII 

about  the  place  suggests  that  diminutive  medium  of 
harmony.  However,  there  is  a  less  romantic  connota- 
tion, for  the  definition  of  ukulele  is  literally  "jumping 
flea."  But,  as  Jack  says,  "Let  us  hope  the  place  was 
called  after  the  instrument!" 

The  ascent  we  found  steeper  than  below  the  ranch 
house,  but  it  worked  no  hardship  on  horse  or  rider. 
We  were  in  good  season  to  "rustle"  supper,  and  went 
berrying  for  dessert.  Of  course,  there  had  to  be  a  berry- 
fight  between  Jack  and  the  two  husky  girls,  who  soon  be- 
came weird  and  sanguinary  objects,  plastered  from  crown 
to  heel  with  the  large  juicy  akalas,  which  resemble  our 
loganberries.  Jack  asserts  that  they  are  larger  than 
hens'  eggs ;  but  lacking  convenient  eggs,  there  is  no  prov- 
ing him  in  error.  Nothing  does  him  more  good  than  a 
whole-hearted  romp  with  young  people,  and  Armine  and 
Gwen  were  a  match  that  commanded  his  wary  respect. 
"I  love  to  have  my  girls  romp  with  Mr.  London,"  once 
I  heard  a  mother  say.  "He  is  like  a  clean-minded,  whole- 
some boy,  and  never  too  rough." 

After  supper,  we  reclined  upon  a  breezy  point  during  a 
lingering  sunset  over  the  wide,  receding  earth,  lifted  high 
above  the  little  affairs  of  men,  and,  still  high  above, 
the  equally  receding  summit.  We  felt  light,  inconsequen- 
tial, as  if  we  had  no  place,  no  weight,  no  reality  —  motes 
poised  on  a  sliver  of  rock  between  two  tremendous  realities. 

Louis  von  Tempsky,  resting  his  lithe,  strong  frame  for 
once,  recounted  old  legends  concerning  the  House  of  the 
Sun,  and  the  naming  thereof,  and  the  fierce  warfare  that 
is  ever  going  on  about  its  walls,  between  the  legions  of 
Ukiukiu  and  Naulu,  the  Northeast  Trade  and  the  Lee- 
ward Wind ;  and  until  we  were  driven  indoors  by  the 
chill,  we  lay  observing  the  breezy  struggle  beneath  among 
opposing  masses  of  driven  clouds. 

And  now,  after  a  game  of  whist  between  Jack  and  Mrs. 
Thurston  on  the  one  side,  and  Messrs.  Thurston  and  Von 


OUR  HAWAII  161 

on  the  other,  we  are  going  to  rest  upon  our  hikie  (hik-e-a), 
the  same  being  a  contrivance  of  hard  boards,  some  seven 
feet  square,  covered  with  lauhala  mats  and  quilts  made 
to  measure. 

PALIKU,  CRATER  OF  HALEAKALA, 
Wednesday,  July  17,  1907. 

And  it's  ho !  for  the  crater's  rim,  to  look  over  into  the 
mysterious  Other  Side  from  the  tantalizing  skyline  that 
promises  what  no  other  horizon  in  all  the  world  can  give. 
Hail,  Haleakala !  largest  extinct  crater  in  existence ! 
It's  boots  and  saddles  for  the  unroofed  House  of  the  Sun. 
What  will  it  be  like?  ("Nothing  you've  ever  seen  or 
dreamed,"  this  from  the  Thurstons.)  Shall  we  be  dis- 
appointed? ("Not  if  you're  alive!"  contributes  Von 
Tempsky.)  Jack  gives  me  a  heaving  hand  into  the  saddle, 
and  a  kiss  by  the  way,  and  my  Welshman  strikes  a  swinging 
jog-trot  that  plays  havoc  with  the  opu-iu\l  —  opu  being 
stomach  —  with  which  my  terrible  mountain  appetite  has 
been  assuaged. 

Now  rolling  grasslands  give  place  to  steep  and  rugged 
mountain,  with  sparse  vegetation.  Here  and  there,  re- 
lieving the  monotony,  gleams  a  sheaf  of  silver  blades, 
the  "silver-sword,"  with  a  red  brand  of  blossoms  thrust- 
ing from  the  center;  or  patches  of  "silver  verbena,"  a 
pretty  velvet  flower  that  presses  well  and  serves  as  edel- 
weiss for  Haleakala.  Stopping  to  breathe  the  horses,  we 
nibble  ohelo  berries,  which  look  much  like  cranberries,  but 
have  a  mealy-apple  flavor.  There  is  wild  country  up  here, 
where  sometimes  cattle  and  ranging  horses  are  pulled  down 
by  wild  dogs ;  and  back  in  the  fastnesses,  even  mounted 
cowboys,  rounding  up  the  stock,  have  been  attacked. 

And  somebody  is  singing  all  the  time.  If  it  is  not  Mr. 
Von's  tenor,  one  hears  Mr.  Thurston's  pleasant  voice  on 
the  breeze,  essaying  a  certain  climacteric  note  that  eludes 
his  range  at  the  end  of  "Sweet  Lei  Lehua."  A  strong 


162  OUR  HAWAII 

and  engaging  character  is  Mr.  Thurston,  nervous,  alert, 
under  his  firm-lipped  smile;  a  body  quick  to  steel  into 
action ;  hair  grayed  in  service  to  his  Islands ;  keen  black 
eyes  shaded  by  thoughtful  brows,  and  eyes  whose  very 
color  frowns  at  uncleanness  or  hypocrisy  —  eyes  that  re- 
flect and  absorb  humor  at  every  turn.  And  there  is  some- 
thing imperious  in  his  carriage  and  backward  fling  of  head, 
that  savors  of  courts  and  kings  and  halls  of  statesmanship. 

Over  the  sharp,  brittle  lavas  of  antiquity  our  horses, 
many  of  them  barefooted,  their  hoofs  like  onyx,  scramble 
with  never  a  fall  on  the  panting  steeps ;  on  and  on,  up  and 
up,  we  forge,  with  a  blithe,  lifting  feel  in  the  thin  and 
thinner  air,  while  the  great  arc  of  the  horizon  seems  ever 
above  the  eye-level.  And  then  rings  a  thrilling  call  from 
ahead  that  the  next  rise  will  land  us  on  the  jagged 
edge  of  the  hollow  mountain.  I  am  about  to  join  the 
charge  of  that  last  lap  when  a  runaway  packhorse  —  none 
other  than  Louisa  —  diverts  my  attention  to  the  rear. 
When  I  turn  again,  the  rest  are  at  the  top  —  all  but  Jack, 
who  faces  me  upon  his  Pontius  Pilate,  until  I  come  up. 
"Dear  Kid,  I  wanted  to  see  it  with  you,"  he  explains, 
and  together  we  follow  to  Magnetic  Peak  —  so-called 
what  of  its  lodes  tone  properties.  And  then  .  .  . 

More  than  twenty  miles  around  its  age-sculptured  brim, 
the  titan  tic  rosy  bowl  lay  beneath;  seven  miles  across 
the  incredible  hollow  our  gaze  traveled  to  the  glowing 
mountain-line  that  bounds  the  other  side,  and  still  above 
...  we  could  not  believe  our  sight  that  was  unprepared 
for  such  ravishment  of  beauty.  Surely  we  beheld  very 
Heaven,  the  Isles  of  the  Blest,  floating  above  clouds  of 
earth  —  azure,  snow-capped  peaks  so  ineffably  high,  so 
ungraspably  lovely,  that  we  forgot  we  had  come  to  see  a 
place  of  ancient  fire,  and  gazed  spellbound,  from  our  puny 
altitude  of  ten  thousand  feet,  upon  illimitable  heights  of 
snow  all  unrelated  to  the  burned-out  thirsty  world  on 
which  we  stood. 


OUR  HAWAII  163 

It  was  only  Mauna  Kea  —  Mauna  Kea  and  Mauna  Loa, 
on  the  Big  Island  of  living  fire,  half  again  as  high  as  our 
wind-swept  position;  but  so  remote  and  illusive  were 
they,  that  our  earthborn  senses  were  incapable  of  realizing 
that  the  sublime  vision  was  anything  more  than  a  day- 
dream, and  that  we  looked  upon  the  same  lofty  island, 
the  highest  on  earth,  that  had  greeted  our  eyes  from  the 
Snark. 

"It  never  palls,"  Armine  whispered  solemnly,  tears  in 
her  forget-me-not-blue  eyes.  And  her  father  and  Mr. 
Thurston,  who  had  stood  here  unnumbered  times,  soberly 
acquiesced.  Jack  and  I  knew,  with  certitude  birthed  of 
the  magic  moment,  that  our  memory,  did  we  never  repeat 
our  journeying,  would  remain  undimmed  for  all  our  days. 

"But  we  are  coming  back  some  day!"  Jack  voiced  his 
thought;  and  then  we  devoted  ourselves  to  hanging 
upon  the  glassy-brittle  brink  and  peering  into  the  crater's 
unbelievable  depths,  that  are  not  sheer  but  slope  with 
an  immensity  of  sweep  that  cannot  be  measured  by  the 
eye,  so  deceptive  are  the  red  and  black  inclined  planes  of 
volcanic  sand. 

Pointing  to  a  small  ruddy  cone  in  the  floor  of  the  crater, 
Mr.  Thurston  said:  "You  would  hardly  think  that  that 
blowhole  is  higher  than  Diamond  Head,  but  it  is !"  And 
before  there  was  time  to  gasp  and  readjust  our  dazzled 
senses,  he  was  indicating  an  apparent  few  hundred  feet 
of  incurving  cinder-slope  that  looked  ideal  for  toboggan- 
ing, with  the  information  that  it  was  over  a  mile  in  length. 
A  dotted  line  of  hoof  prints  of  some  wayward  wild  goat 
strung  across  its  red-velvet  surface,  and  presently  we 
were  tossing  bits  of  lava  over-edge  upon  unbroken  stretches 
immediately  below,  to  watch  the  little  interrupted  trails 
they  traced  until  the  wind  should  erase  them.  Only  when 
the  men  loosened  large  bowlders  into  the  yawning  chasm, 
and  we  saw  them  leaving  diminishing  puffs  of  yellow  ocher 
dust  as  they  bounded  upon  the  cinder-sweeps,  could  we 


164  OUR  HAWAII 

begin  to  line  up  the  proportions  of  the  immediate  crater- 
side,  for  whole  minutes  were  consumed,  and  minutes  upon 
minutes,  for  those  swift  stones  to  pass  beyond  sight. 

"And  why,"  queried  Jack,  "are  we  the  only  ones  en- 
joying this  incomparable  grandeur?  Why  aren't  there 
thousands  of  people  climbing  over  one  another  to  hang 
all  around  the  rim  of  'the  greatest  extinct  crater  in  the 
world '  ?  Such  a  reputation  ought  to  be  irresistible.  Why, 
there's  nothing  on  earth  so  wonderful  as  this !  I  should 
think  there  wouldn't  be  ships  enough  to  carry  the  tourists, 
if  only  for  lao  and  Haleakala.  Perhaps  Hawaii  doesn't 
want  them,  or  need  them.  .  .  .  Personally,"  he  laughed, 
"I'm  glad  my  wife  and  I  are  the  only  tourists  making  a 
racket  here  to-day.  —  And  we're  not  tourists,  thank  God !" 

Two  broad  portals  there  are  into  the  House  Built  by 
the  Sun,  and  through  them  march  the  warring  winds, 
Ukiukiu  and  Naulu.  In  at  the  northern  portal,  Ukiukiu 
drives  the  trade  clouds,  mile-wide,  like  a  long  line  of  silent, 
ghostly  breakers,  only  to  have  them  torn  to  shreds,  as 
to-day,  and  dissipated  in  the  warm  embrace  of  the  rarefied 
airs  of  Naulu.  Sometimes  Ukiukiu  meets  with  better 
luck,  and  fills  the  castle  with  cloud-legions ;  but  ours  was 
the  luck  this  day,  for  the  crater  was  cleared  of  all  but 
remnants  of  floating  cloud-stuff,  and  our  view  was  superb. 

At  last,  tearing  from  the  absorbing  spectacle,  we  de- 
scended a  short  way  to  a  stone- walled  corral,  where  the 
bright-eyed,  sweet-mannered  cowboys  had  lunch  waiting 
—  a  real  roughing-it  picnic  of  jerked  beef  and  salt  pork, 
products  of  the  ranch;  and  hard-poi,  called  pai'ai,  thick 
and  sticky,  royal  pink-lavender  poi,  in  a  big  sack.  Into 
this  we  dug  our  willing  fists,  bringing  them  out  daubed 
with  the  hearty  substance.  It  came  to  me,  blissfully 
licking  the  pai'ai  from  my  fingers,  that  this  promiscuous 
delving  for  poi  into  one  receptacle  that  obtains  among 
the  natives,  and  which  the  real  kamaaina  hesitates  not 
to  emulate,  is  far  from  the  unfastidious  custom  it  is  sure 


OUR  HAWAII  165 

to  appear  upon  first  sight.  "Why,  sure--"  Jack  caught 
the  idea,  "you  stick  your  ringer  into  a  thick  paste,  and 
the  ringer  is  withdrawn  coated  with  it.  Ergo,  your  ringer 
has  touched  nothing  of  what  remains  in  the  pot  —  or  sack. 
-  Hooray  for  the  Kid- Woman !  I  salute ! " 

After  lunch  we  climbed  a  disgorged  litter  of  bowlders 
and  sharp  lava,  to  inspect  the  meager  crumbling  ruins  of 
fortifications  built  by  Kamehameha  the  Great  into  the 
side  of  the  mountain ;  then,  overtopping  the  dizzy  verge, 
slowly  we  sank  into  the  ruddy  depths,  by  way  of  the  cinder 
declivities  we  had  speculated  upon  from  our  lofty  perch. 
Closer  acquaintance  proved  them  entirely  too  rough  with 
loose  rubble  for  tobogganing.  The  horses  left  sulphurous 
yellow  tracks  as  they  pulled  their  pasterns  out  of  the 
bottomless  burnt  sands,  and  a  golden  streamer  flew  back- 
ward from  each  hoof -fall.  So  swift  was  our  drop  that 
riders  strung  out  ahead  speedily  grew  very,  very  small, 
though  distinct,  as  if  seen  through  the  wrong  end  of  a 
telescope.  In  the  marvelously  pure  atmosphere  each 
object  stood  out  clean-cut,  while  an  insidious  sunburn 
began  to  make  itself  felt  on  lips  and  cheeks  and  noses. 
Apart  from  slightly  shortened  breathing  at  the  summit, 
we  had  felt  no  inconvenience  from  the  elevation. 

And  so  our  caravan  straggled  into  the  depths  of  Halea- 
kala,  sometimes  a  horseman  galloping  springily  across  a 
dark  cinderslope  in  a  halo  of  tawny  sun-shot  dust,  then 
dropping  steeply,  his  mount  nearly  sitting;  while  over- 
head and  behind,  on  the  evanescent  trail  of  our  making, 
came  the  picturesque  pack  horses  and  cowboys,  and  one 
small  patient  mule  laden  with  camp  comforts.  From 
farthest  below  rose  quaint  reiterative  chants  of  hulas, 
as  Louis  von  Tempsky  rode  and  sang,  loose  in  the  saddle, 
reins  on  his  cow-pony's  neck,  debonair  and  tireless,  with 
a  bonny  daughter  to  either  side. 

Strange  is  the  furnishing  of  this  stronghold* of  the  Sun 
God.  And  few  are  the  spots  in  it  that  would  invite  the 


i66  OUR  HAWAII 

tired  and  parched  wayfarer  to  tarry.  For  all  the  beauty 
of  its  rose  and  velvet  of  distance,  there  reigns  intense 
desolation  everywhere,  with  something  sinister  in  the 
dearth  -of  plant  or  animal  life.  Passing  an  overtoppling 
crimson  Niagara  of  dead  lava  frozen  in  its  fall,  we  rein- 
vested the  silent  bleakness  with  fire  and  flow  and  upheaval, 
until,  suddenly  whooping  into  a  mad  race  up  the  flanks 
of  a  big  blowhole  that  had  earlier  presented  its  dry  throat 
to  our  downward  scrutiny,  we  hesitated  to  look  over  into 
the  soundless  pit,  half  expecting  we  knew  not  what.  No 
such  luck,  of  course,  although  dead  volcanoes  have  been 
known  to  stir  into  life ;  and  we  slanted  back  into  the 
floor  of  the  House,  and  went  on  our  burning,  arid  course. 

It  gives  an  odd  sensation  to  realize  that  one  is  traversing 
miles  literally  inside  a  high  mountain.  We  thought  of 
friends  we  should  have  liked  to  transport  abruptly  into 
the  unguessable  cavity.  Strangely  enough,  as  we  pro- 
gressed, it  turned  out  that  the  warm  color,  so  vivid  from 
the  summit,  flushes  only  one  side  of  the  cones,  like  a  fever 
not  burned  out;  although  ahead,  on  the  opposite  wall, 
there  is  a  giant  scar  of  perfect  carmine. 

At  length  we  commenced  to  wind  among  little  crateresque 
hillocks,  clothed  with  rough  growths  by  the  healing 
millenniums,  until,  far  on,  we  could  just  glimpse  the 
Promised  Rest  of  verdure  —  clustered  trees  and  smiling 
pasture,  where  our  tents  were  to  be  pitched  for  two  nights, 
while  the  beasts  should  graze.  But  the  distance  was  as 
deceptive  as  a  mirage,  and  we  had  still  to  endure  many 
a  sharp  trail  across  fields  of  clinking  lava,  black  and  fragile 
as  jet,  swirled  smoothly  in  the  cooling,  and  called  pahoehoe; 
while  the  a-a  lava,  twisted  and  tormented  into  shapes  of 
flame,  licked  against  the  blue-crystal  sky  above  our  heads. 
I  never  cease  to  feel  a  sense  of  aghastness  before  these 
stiff,  upstanding  waves  of  the  slow,  resistless  molten  rock, 
flung  stark  and  frozen  like  the  still  waters  of  the  Red  Sea 
of  old ;  and  here,  at  the  bases  of  these  carven  surges,  are 


OUR  HAWAII  167 

smooth  sandy  levels,  dotted  with  shrubs,  where  one  may 
gallop  in  and  out  as  if  on  the  floor  of  a  recessant  ocean. 

Involved  in  a  maze  of  wayward  lava-flows  among  little 
gray  cones,  the  vast  aspect  of  the  crater  was  lost,  although, 
turning,  we  could  yet  discern  Magnetic  Peak.  In  every 
direction  the  views  changed  from  moment  to  moment; 
and  wonder  grew  as  we  tried  to  grasp  the  immensity  of 
the  old  volcano  and  its  astounding  details.  Once  we 
halted  at  the  Bottomless  Pit  itself  —  a  blowhole  in  the 
ground  that  had  leisurely  spat  liquid  rock,  flake  upon 
flake,  until  around  its  ugly  mouth  a  wall  accumulated,  of 
material  so  glassy  light  that  large  pieces  could  easily  be 
broken  off.  And  one  must  have  a  care  not  to  lean  too 
heavily,  for  judged  by  its  noiseless  manner  of  swallowing 
dropped  stones,  a  human  body  falling  into  the  well  would 
never  be  heard  after  its  first  despairing  cry. 

There  is  but  one  chance  to  water  animals  until  camp- 
ground is  reached,  and  we  found  the  pool  dry  —  auwe ! 
But  the  kanakas,  carrying  buckets,  scaled  the  crater  wall 
to  a  higher  basin,  from  which  they  sent  down  a  stream. 
One  by  one  the  horses  drank  while  we  rested  in  an  oasis 
of  long  grass,  cooling  our  flaming  faces  in  the  shade. 

A  mile  or  two  more,  and  we  reined  up  to  the  cracking  of 
rifle-shots  under  the  cliff  at  Paliku,  a  fairy  nook  of  a  camp- 
ing spot,  where  Mr.  Von  and  the  cowboys,  having  beaten 
us  in,  were  bringing  down  goat-meat  for  supper.  I  was 
guilty  of  inward  treacherous  glee  that  only  one  was  hit, 
as  that  was  plenty  for  our  needs;  and  the  spotted  kids 
looked  so  wonderful  clambering  a  wall  on  which  we  could 
see  no  foothold. 

Camp  had  been  planned  in  a  luxuriant  grove  of  opala 
and  kolea  trees  close  to  the  foot  of  the  pali ;  but  the  ground 
being  soggy  from  recent  rains,  we  found  better  tent- 
space  in  the  open,  where  sleek  cattle  grazed  not  far  off, 
getting  both  food  and  drink  from  the  lush  grass  that  grows 
the  year  round  in  this  blossoming  pocket  of  the  desert. 


168  OUR  HAWAII 

This  reminds  me  that  there  are  sections  on  the  "dry" 
side  of  Maui  where  herds  subsist  entirely  upon  prickly 
cactus,  having  no  other  food  or  moisture.  Only  a  few 
weaker  ones  succumb  to  the  spines  of  the  cactus,  and  it 
is  said  that  there  are  no  finer  cattle  on  the  islands  than 
the  survivors. 

All  took  a  hand  in  the  task  of  settling  camp,  we  women 
filling  interminable  sacks  with  ferns,  to  serve  as  mattresses. 
The  change  of  exercise  was  the  best  thing  that  could  happen 
to  us  malihinis,  else  we  might  have  stiffened  from  the 
many  hours  in  saddle. 

And  what  a  starved  company  it  was  that  smacked  its 
lips  at  smell  of  the  untiring  Von's  jerked  beef  broiling  on 
a  stick  over  a  fire  at  the  open  tent-flap,  behind  which 
the  rest  of  us  sat  and  made  ready  the  service  on  a  blanket. 
For  it  is  right  cold  of  an  evening,  nearly  7000  feet  in  the 
air  —  a  veritable  refrigerating  plant  in  the  mansion  of  the 
Sun. 

I  hope,  if  ever  I  land  in  heaven,  and  it  is  anything  half 
as  attractive  as  this  earth  I  go  marveling  through,  that 
it  will  not  be  incumbent  upon  me  to  keep  a  journal.  Seeing 
and  feeling  are  enough  to  keep  one  full  occupied.  And 
yet,  some  one  in  my  family  of  two,  it  would  seem,  must 
chronicle  the  details  of  its  colorful  existence. 

PALIKU,  TO  HANA,  MAUI,  Thursday,  July  18,  1907. 

Too  burned  and  tired  to  fancy  goat -hunting  in  a  steady 
rain,  Mrs.  Thurston  and  I  spent  yesterday  resting,  read- 
ing, sleeping,  and  playing  cards  in  the  dripping  tent,  while 
our  men  went  with  Mr.  Von  and  the  girls.  The  drenching 
clouds  drifted  and  lifted  on  the  pali,  where  the  sun  darted 
golden  javelins  through  showers  until  the  raindrops  broke 
into  a  glory  of  rainbows.  Then  the  brief  splendor  waned, 
leaving  us  almost  in  darkness  at  midday,  in  an  increasing 
downpour. 


OUR  HAWAII  169 

Our  hunters  returned  in  late  afternoon,  wet  and  weary, 
but  jubilant  and  successful,  eager  for  supper  and  a  damp 
game  of  whist  on  the  blankets.  After  we  had  tucked 
under  those  same  blankets,  with  shrewdly  placed  cups  to 
catch  the  leaks  in  our  soaked  tent-roof,  we  listened  to  the 
mellow  voices  of  the  Hawaiians  singing  little  hulas  and 
love-songs  and  laughing  as  musically. 

This  morning  it  was  down-tent,  and  boots  and  saddles 
once  more;  but  ere  we  made  our  six  o'clock  get-away,  I 
found  a  half  hour  to  go  prowling  to  the  feet  of  the  pali, 
to  an  alluring  spot  that  had  been  in  my  eye  since  the  day 
before  —  a  green  lap  in  the  gray  rock  where  a  waterfall 
had  been.  Winning  through  a  nettly  wet  thicket,  I  peeped 
into  a  ferny,  flowery  corner  of  Elfland  at  the  base  of  a 
vertical  fall  down  which  the  water  had  furrowed  a  shining 
streak  on  the  polished  rock  amid  clinging,  fanning  ferns 
and  grasses  and  velvet  mosses  —  a  grotto  fit  for  child- 
hood's loveliest  imaginings  to  people  with  pink  and  white 
fairy-folk  and  brown  and  green  gnomes. 

They  were  treacherous  and  slippery  trails  that  led  out 
of  the  crater  and  down  through  Kaupo  Gap,  chill  with 
Naulu's  drafty  onslaught,  where  Pele,  Goddess  of  Fire, 
broke  through  the  wall  of  the  crater  and  fled  forever  from 
Maui  to  take  up  her  abode  on  Mauna  Loa's  wounded 
side ;  but  soon  out  of  the  clouds  we  rode  and  went  steam- 
ing in  the  horizontal  rays  of  a  glorious  sunrise.  Again 
there  were  glimpses  of  Mauna  Kea  and  Mauna  Loa,  su- 
pernal in  the  morning  sky,  although  a  trifle  more  plausible 
seen  from  this  lesser  level. 

Down  our  sure-footed  animals  dropped  into  lush  meadows, 
where  fat  cattle  raised  their  heads  to  stare ;  up  and  down, 
across  crackling  lava  beds,  like  wrecked  giant  stairways 
balustraded  by  the  cool  gray-and-gold  walls  of  the  Gap, 
from  between  which  we  could  make  out  the  surfy  coast 
line.  Once  we  had  struck  the  final  descent,  there  were 
no  ups,  but  only  downs,  for  6000  feet ;  and  several  times 


170  OUR  HAWAII 

our  saddles,  sliding  over  the  necks  of  the  horses,  obliged 
us  to  dismount  and  set  them  back. 

On  a  brown,  rocky  bluff  above  the  sea  we  found  an 
early  lunch  ready  and  waiting,  at  the  house  of  a  Portuguese- 
Hawaiian  family  named  Vieira,  and  by  eleven  were  loping 
easily  along  green  cliffs,  past  old  grass-houses  still  occupied 
by  natives  —  a  sight  fast  becoming  rare.  From  one 
weirdly  tattered  hut,  a  nut-brown,  wrinkled  woman,  old, 
but  with  fluffy  black  hair  blown  out  from  wild  black  eyes, 
rushed  flinging  her  arms  about  and  crying  "  Aloha !  Aloha ! " 
with  peal  upon  peal  of  mad  sweet  laughter. 

For  several  miles  the  coast  was  much  like  that  of  North- 
ern California,  with  long  points  running  out  into  the 
ocean ;  but  soon  we  were  scrambling  up  and  down  gulch- 
trails.  In  olden  times  these  gulches  were  impassable  on 
account  of  the  tremendous  rainfall  on  this  eastern  shore, 
averaging  two  hundred  inches  yearly.  (Three  years  ago 
it  registered  as  high  as  four  hundred  and  twenty  inches.) 
So  the  wise  chiefs,  somewhere  around  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, with  numerous  commoners  at  their  command,  had 
the  curt  zigzags  paved  with  a  sort  of  cobblestone,  without 
regard  to  ease  of  grade,  and  the  rises  and  falls  of  this 
slippery  highway  are  nothing  short  of  formidable,  es- 
pecially when  one's  horse,  accustomed  to  leading,  resents 
being  curbed  midway  of  the  procession  and  repeatedly 
tries  to  rush  past  the  file  where  there  is  no  passing-room. 

But  the  animals  quickly  proved  that  they  could  take 
perfect  care  of  themselves  and  their  riders,  and  we  ad- 
vantaged by  this  welcome  assurance  to  look  our  fill  upon 
the  beautiful  coast  and  forested  mountain.  Tiny  white 
beaches  dreamed  in  the  sunlight  at  the  feet  of  the  gulch- 
valleys,  where  rivers  flowed  past  coconut  palms  that 
leaned  and  swayed  in  the  strong  sea  breeze,  and  brown 
babies  tumbled  among  tawny  grass  huts,  while  gay  calicoes, 
hung  out  to  dry,  furnished  just  the  right  note  of  brilliant 
color. 


OUR  HAWAII  171 

Some  of  the  idyllic  strands  were  uninhabited  and  in- 
viting ;  and  we  spoke  of  the  tired  dwellers  of  the  cities  of 
all  the  world,  who  never  heard  of  Windward  Maui,  where 
is  space,  and  solitude,  and  beauty,  warm  winds  and  cool, 
soothing  rainfalls,  fruit  and  flowers  for  the  plucking, 
swimming  by  seashore  and  hunting  on  mountain  side,  and 
Mauna  Kea  over  there  a  little  way  to  gladden  eye  and 
spirit.  Then,  "Mate,  are  you  glad  you're  alive?"  broke 
upon  my  reverie  as  Jack  leaned  from  his  horse  on  a  zigzag 
above  my  head. 

It  would  not  have  seemed  like  Hawaii  if  we  had  not 
traversed  a  cane  plantation,  and  halt  was  made  at  the 
Kipahulu  Sugar  Mill,  while  Gwen's  horse  must  have  a 
shoe  reset.  It  would  appear  that  the  onyx  feet  of  the 
unshod  horses,  that  have  never  worn  iron  in  their  lives, 
stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  incalculably  hard  travel 
over  the  ripping  lava  better  than  the  more  pampered 
animals. 

All  the  eager  train  knew  from  experience  that  at  Hana 
waited  their  fodder;  and  we,  in  like  frame  of  mind,  re- 
strained them  not.  We  had  done  thirty-five  miles  when 
we  pulled  up  before  the  small  hotel  —  and  such  miles ! 
Mr.  Cooper,  manager  of  Hana  Plantation,  called  upon  us 
with  extra  delicacies  to  eke  out  the  plain  hotel  fare- 
avocados,  luscious  papaias,  and  little  sugary  bananas. 
"Gee!"  murmured  Jack  from  the  buttery  depths  of  a 
big  alligator  pear,  "I  wish  we  could  grow  these  things  in 
the  Valley  of  the  Moon !" 

This  village  of  Hana  lies  high  on  the  horseshoe  of  a  little 
blue  bay  embraced  by  two  headlands,  and  is  fraught  with 
warlike  legend  and  history.  In  the  eighteenth  century, 
King  Kalaniopuu,  of  the  old  dynasty,  whose  life  was  one 
long  bloody  battle  with  other  chiefs  of  Maui  for  the  posses- 
sion of  these  eastern  districts,  held  the  southern  headland 
of  the  bay,  Kauiki,  for  over  twenty  years ;  then  the  great 
Kahekili  deprived  the  garrison  of  its  water  supply,  and 


172  OUR  HAWAII 

retook  the  fort,  which  is  an  ancient  crater.  In  the  time 
of  Kamehameha,  this  fort  withstood  his  attacks  for  two 
years,  after  the  remainder  of  Maui  had  been  brought  to 
his  charmed  heel. 

To-night,  I  know,  I  shall  fall  unconscious  with  the  ring- 
ing of  iron  hoofs  on  stony  pathways  and  the  gurgle  and 
plash  of  waterfalls  in  my  ears. 

HANA,  TO  KEANAE  VALLEY,  MAUI, 

Saturday,  July  20,  1907. 

The  Ditch  Country  —  this  is  the  unpoetical,  unimagina- 
tive name  of  a  wonderland  that  eludes  description.  An 
island  world  in  itself,  it  is  compounded  of  vision  upon 
vision  of  heights  and  depths,  hung  with  waterfalls,  of  a 
gentle  grandeur  withal,  clothed  softly  with  greenest  green  of 
tree  and  shrub  and  grass,  ferns  of  endless  variety,  fruiting 
guavas,  bananas,  mountain-apples  —  all  in  a  warm,  glow- 
ing, tropical  tangle ;  a  Land  of  Promise  for  generations  to 
come.  For  all  who  can  sit  a  Haleakala  horse  —  the  best 
mountain  horse  on  earth  —  must  come  some  day  to  feast 
their  eyes  upon  this  possession  of  the  United  States  whose 
beauty,  we  are  assured  of  the  surprising  fact,  is  unknown 
save  to  perhaps  a  hundred  white  men.  This  of  course  is 
exclusive  of  the  engineers  of  the  trail  and  ditch  and  those 
financially  interested  in  the  plantations  of  Windward 
Maui.  And  undoubtedly  no  white  foot  ever  previously 
trod  here. 

The  Ditch  Country  —  untrammeled  paradise  wherein 
an  intrepid  engineer  yclept  O'Shaughnessy  overcame  al- 
most unsurmountable  odds  and  put  through  a  magnificent 
irrigation  scheme  that  harnessed  the  abundant  waterfalls 
and  tremendously  increased  the  output  of  the  invaluable 
sugar  plantations.  And  to  most  intents  it  remains  an  un- 
trammeled paradise,  for  what  little  the  pilgrim  glimpses  of 
the  fine  achievement  of  the  Nahiku  Ditch  itself  is  in  the 


OUR  HAWAII  173 

form  of  a  wide  concrete  Waterway  running  for  short,  in- 
frequent distances  beside  the  grassy  trail  before  losing  itself 
in  Mr.  O'Shaughnessy's  difficult  tunnels,  through  which 
most  of  its  course  is  quarried. 

All  manner  of  Hawaiian  timber  goes  to  make  up  the  in- 
comparable foresting  of  this  great  mountain  side  whose  top 
is  lost  in  the  clouds.  Huge  koa  trees,  standing  or  fallen, 
the  dead  swathed  in  vines,  the  quick  embraced  by  the 
ie-ie,  a  climbing  palm  that  clings  only  to  living  pillars,  its 
blossoming  arms  hanging  in  curves  like  cathedral  candela- 
bra ;  the  ohia  ai,  lighting  the  prevailing  green  with  its  soft, 
thistle-formed,  crimson-brushed,  and  cherry-red  fruit;  the 
ohia  lehua,  prized  for  its  splendid  dark-brown  hardwood, 
but  bearing  no  edible  fruit;  and  the  kukui,  silver-green 
as  young  chestnuts  in  springtime,  trooping  up  hill  and  down 
dale.  Especially  ornamental  are  the  luxuriant  tree  ferns 
on  their  chocolate-brown,  hairy  pedestals,  and  many  of 
the  ground  ferns  were  familiar  —  even  the  gold-  and  silver- 
back  grow  in  Hawaii.  Indeed,  a  fern  collector  would  be 
in  his  element  in  these  Islands.  Maui  alone  has  all  of  a 
hundred  and  thirty-odd  varieties. 

We  nooned  on  a  rubber  plantation  in  which  Mr.  Thurston 
is  financially  interested.  Indeed,  we  have  yet  to  learn  of 
any  Hawaii  enterprise  of  importance  in  which  he  is  not, 
including,  which  we  have  but  lately  learned,  the  Haleakala 
Ranch,  in  which  he,  James  B.  Castle,  and  H.  B.  Baldwin 
each  own  one  third.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anderson  entertained 
us  at  a  hospitable  luncheon,  served  by  two  kimono'd 
Japanese  maids  —  little  bits  of  pictures  off  a  fan,  Jack 
observed.  He,  by  the  way,  well-nigh  disgraced  himself 
when,  replying  to  a  query  from  his  hostess  whether  or  not 
he  liked  foreign  dishes,  he  assured  her  he  enjoyed  all  good 
foods  of  all  countries,  with  one  exception  —  "nervous" 
pudding,  which  he  declared  made  him  tremble  internally. 
The  words  and  accompanying  gestures  were  still  in  the  air 
when  a  maid  entered  bearing  the  dessert  —  a  trembling, 


174  OUR  HAWAII 

watermelon-hued  dome  of  gelatine!  A  horrified  silence 
was  broken  by  Mr.  Anderson's  shout  of  laughter,  in  which 
every  one  joined  with  relief.  But  Jack  consistently  de- 
clined any  part  of  the  " nervous''  confection,  saying  that 
he  always  preferred  coffee  alone  for  his  dessert. 

Armine,  to  the  surprise  of  her  father  and  sister,  and  my 
speechless  delight,  offered  to  let  me  ride  her  superb  Bedouin 
for  the  afternoon,  a  young  equine  prince  with  gait  so  springy 
that  he  seemed  treading  in  desert  sand.  We  had  traveled 
nearly  all  day  in  heavy  showers,  and  were  convinced  of 
the  accuracy  of  the  figures  of  Windward  Maui's  annual 
rainfall,  for  no  saddle-slicker  was  able  to  exclude  the 
searching  sky-shot  water.  But  the  discomfort  of  wet- 
clinging  garments  was  lost  in  our  rapt  attention  to  the  in- 
creasing splendor  of  the  landscape.  Rightly  had  our  guides 
assured  us  that  yesterday's  scenery  was  as  nothing  com- 
pared to  this,  where  the  waterfalls  ever  increased  in  height 
and  volume,  thundering  above  and  sometimes  clear  over 
the  trail  quarried  into  a  wall  of  rock  that  extended  thou- 
sands of  feet  over  our  heads  and  a  thousand  sheer  below 
the  narrow  foothold.  Our  brains  swam  with  the  whirling, 
shouting  wonder  of  waters,  the  yawning  depths  that  opened 
below  our  feet,  filled  with  froth  of  wild  new  rivers  born  of 
the  fresh  rains.  Jack's  warning  was  true:  I  have  saved 
no  words  for  this  final  stunning  spectacle. 

We  reached  Keanae  Valley  tired  in  body,  in  eye,  in  mind 
—  aye,  even  surfeited  with  beauty.  But  once  in  dry  cloth- 
ing weariness  fell  from  us,  as  we  disposed  ourselves  in  re- 
clining rattan  chairs  on  a  high  porch  of  the  little  house,  and 
leisurely  counted  the  cataracts  fringing  the  valley  amphi- 
theater, upon  whose  turrets  the  sunset  sky,  heavy  with 
purple  and  rose  and  gold,  seemed  to  rest.  All  together  we 
made  out  thirty-five,  some  of  them  dropping  hundreds  of 
feet,  making  hum  the  machinery  in  great  sugar  mills  else- 
where. Commercialism  in  grand  Keanae !  And  yet,  it  is 
not  out  of  the  way  of  romance  to  associate  the  idea  of  these 


OUR  HAWAII  175 

tremendous  natural  forces  with  the  mighty  enginery  that 
man's  thinking  machinery  has  evolved  for  them  to  propel 
in  the  performance  of  his  work. 

KEANAE  VALLEY,  TO  HALEAKALA  RANCH, 

Sunday,  July  21,  1907. 

Mr.  Von  had  us  stirring  by  half-past  six,  after  ten  hours 
in  bed.  So  soundly  had  we  been  sunk  in  "the  little  death 
in  life,"  that  even  a  violently  driven  rain  which  thoroughly 
soaked  our  dried  riding  togs,  hanging  on  chairs  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  failed  to  disturb.  We  experienced 
the  novel  sensation  of  shivering  in  a  tropic  vale,  the  while 
pulling  on  water-logged  corduroy  and  khaki,  even  hats 
being  soggy. 

Our  amiable  host  and  hostess,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tripp,  after 
serving  a  breakfast  of  wild  bananas,  boiled  taro,  poi, 
broiled  jerked  beef,  and  fresh  milk,  bade  us  Godspeed  with 
tiaras  and  necklets  of  ginger-blossoms,  and  we  fared  forth 
out  of  the  wondrous  mist-wreathed  valley  and  up-trail  on 
horses  spurred  with  knowledge  of  this  last  stretch  to  home 
stables.  The  air  was  ineffably  clear,  as  if  from  a  cleansing 
bath,  with  only  light  clouds  in  the  sunny  sky  to  rest  the 
eyes. 

More  ditch  trails  and  jungle  of  unwithering  green, 
sparkling  wet,  and  steaming  rainbows  in  the  slanting  sun- 
gold  of  the  morning ;  more  and  still  more  wonderful  gulches, 
to  make  good  Mr.  Von's  overnight  prophecy.  And  we 
traversed  a  succession  of  makeshift  bridges  that  called  for 
the  best  caution  of  the  horses  who  knew  the  every  un- 
stable inch.  Jack,  pacing  behind  on  many-gaited  Pontius 
Pilate,  told  me  afterward  that  his  heart  was  in  his  throat 
to  see  the  slender  spans  give  to  the  weight  and  swinging 
motion  of  my  stout  charger,  who,  never  ceasing  to  fret 
at  being  withheld  from  the  lead,  pranced  scandalously  in 
the  most  unwise  places. 


i76  OUR  HAWAII 

At  length  we  approached  a  promised  "worst  and  last 
gulch,"  a  flood-eroded,  lofty  ravine  of  appalling  beauty, 
down  the  pitch  of  which  we  slid  with  bated  breath,  to  the 
reverberation  of  great  falls  on  every  hand.  Obeying  Mr. 
Von's  serious  behest,  we  gathered  on  the  verge  of  a  roaring 
torrent  overflung  by  a  mere  excuse  for  a  bridge,  not  more 
than  four  feet  wide,  roughly  fifty  feet  long,  and  innocent  of 
railing.  To  our  left  the  main  cataract  sprayed  us  in  its 
pounding  fall  to  a  step  in  the  rocky  defile  where  it  crashed 
just  under  the  silly  bridge,  thence  bursting  out  in  deafening 
thunder  to  its  mightiest  plunge  immediately  below,  cas- 
cading to  the  sea. 

"Now,  hurry  and  tell  Von  what  you  want,"  Jack  shouted 
in  my  ear  above  the  watery  din.  And  what  I  wanted  was 
to  be  allowed  to  precede  the  others  over  this  bridge ;  —  oh, 
not  in  bravado,  believe  —  quite  the  contrary.  I  was  in  a 
small  terror  of  the  thing,  but,  since  it  had  to  be  crossed,  I 
was  determined  if  possible  to  cross  it  by  the  least  risky 
method.  Fact  was,  I  feared  to  trust  the  Welshman,  justly 
intolerant  of  his  enforced  degradation  to  the  ranks,  not  to 
make  a  headlong  rush  to  overtake  his  rival,  Mr.  Von's  horse, 
should  he  lead,  for  a  single  rider  at  a  time  was  to  be  per- 
mitted on  the  swaying  structure. 

Without  discussion,  Mr.  Von  appreciated  and  con- 
sented; and  when  the  order  of  march  was  arranged,  the 
Welshman  proved  his  right  to  leadership,  without  hesita- 
tion, wise  muzzle  between  his  exact  feet,  sniffing,  feeling 
every  narrow  plank  of  the  unsteady  way.  It  was  an  ex- 
perience big  with  thought  —  carrying  with  it  an  intense 
sense  of  aloneness,  aloofness  from  aid  in  event  of  disaster, 
trusting  the  vaunted  human  of  me  without  reserve  to  the 
instinct  and  intelligence  of  a  "lesser  animal."  The  blessed 
Welshman!  —  with  chaos  all  about  and  little  foundation 
for  security,  trembling  but  courageous,  he  won  slowly  step 
by  step  across  the  roaring  white  destruction  and  struck  his 
small  fine  hoofs  into  firm  rising  ground  once  more. 


OUR  HAWAII  177 

With  brave,  set  face  Harriet  Thurston,  who  was  little 
accustomed  to  horses,  came  next  after  Mr.  Von,  and  her 
ambitious  but  foolhardy  steed,  midway  of  the  passage, 
began  jogging  with  eagerness  to  be  at  the  end,  setting  up 
a  swaying  rhythm  of  the  bridge  that  sent  sick  chills  over 
the  onlookers,  and  it  was  with  immense  relief  we  watched 
him  regain  solid  earth.  Pontius  Pilate  bore  Jack  sedately, 
followed  by  the  little  girls. 

It  may  give  some  faint  conception  of  the  scariness  of  this 
adventure,  to  tell  an  incident  related  by  Mr.  Von.  One 
of  his  cowboys,  noted  on  Maui  for  his  fearlessness,  always 
first  in  the  pen  with  a  savage  bull,  and  first  on  the  wildest 
bucking  bronco  off  range,  absolutely  balked  at  riding  this 
final  test  of  all  our  nerve :  "I  have  a  wife  and  family,"  he 
expostulated ;  then  dismounted  and  led  his  horse  across.1 

KALEINALU,  MAUI,  Tuesday,  July  23,  1907. 

Kaleinalu,  "Wreath  of  Billows,"  the  seaside  retreat  of 
the  Von  Tempskys,  is  but  another  illustration  of  the  ideal 
chain  of  conditions  that  marks  existence  in  these  fabulous 
isles.  Jack  is  almost  incoherent  on  the  subject  of  choice 
of  climates  and  scenery  and  modes  of  living  to  be  found  from 
mountain  top  to  shore.  One  may  sleep  comfortably  under 
blankets  at  Ukulele  and  Paliku,  with  all  the  invigoration  of 
the  temperate  zone;  enjoy  mild  variable  weather  at  2000 
to  3000  feet,  as  at  the  Ranch;  or  lie  at  warm  sea  level, 
under  a  sheet  or  none,  blown  over  by  the  flowing  trade  wind. 
"Watch  out,  Mate,"  he  warns  me;  "I'm  likely  to  come 
back  here  to  live  some  day,  when  we  have  gone  round  the 
world  and  back  —  if  I  don't  get  too  attached  to  the  Valley 
of  the  Moon."  And  he  ceases  not  to  marvel  that  the  shore- 
line is  not  thronged  with  globe  trotters  bickering  for  sand 
lots.  It  is  a  wonderful  watering  place  for  old  and  young, 

1  Ours  was  the  last  party  that  ever  crossed  this  bridge.  A  new  one  was 
hung  shortly  afterward. 


178  OUR  HAWAII 

with  finest  of  sand  for  the  babies  to  play  in,  and  exciting 
surfing  inside  protecting  reef,  for  swimmers. 

And  here  we  malihinis  are  resting,  after  one  day  of  tennis 
and  colt-breaking  up-mountain,  from  our  six  days  in  the 
saddle.  Nothing  more  arduous  fills  the  hours  than  swing- 
ing in  hammocks  over  the  sand  in  a  shady  ell  of  the  beach- 
house,  reading,  playing  whist,  swimming  in  water  more 
exhilarating  than  at  Waikiki,  romping,  sleeping  —  and 
eating,  fingering  our  poi  and  kukui-nut  and  lomi'd  salmon 
with  the  best. 

To-morrow  we  bid  good-by  to  these  new,  fine  friends, 
who  must  have  sensed  our  heart  of  love  for  them  and  their 
wonderland,  for  they  beg  us  to  return,  ever  welcome,  to 
their  unparalleled  hospitality.  By  now  we  have  proudly 
come  into  our  unexpected  own,  with  a  translation  of  our 
name  into  the  Hawaiian  tongue,  worked  out  by  Kakina  and 
Mr.  Von,  who  speak  like  natives  with  the  natives,  and 
sometimes  with  each  other,  while  the  speech  of  the  lassies 
abounds  in  the  pretty  colloquialisms  of  their  birth-land. 

Always  they  say  pan  for  connotation  of  "finish,"  or 
"that  will  do,"  or  "enough";  kokua  for  help,  noun  or 
verb  —  or,  in  the  sense  of  approval,  or  permission ;  hapai 
is  to  carry;  hiki  no,  as  we  should  say  "all  right,"  "very 
well";  hele  mai,  or  pimai,  come  here,  or  go  there;  one 
oftenest  hears  pilikia  for  trouble,  difficulty,  or  aole  pilikia 
for  the  harmonious  negative ;  the  classic  awiwi,  hurry,  has 
been  superseded  by  that  expressive  and  sharply  explosive 
slang,  wikiwiki;  and  when  this  loveliest  of  hostesses  orders 
a  bath  prepared,  she  enunciates  auau  to  the  Japanese  maids. 
Most  commands,  however,  are  given  in  mixed  English- 
Hawaiian.  The  old  pure  word  for  food,  and  to  eat,  paina, 
is  never  heard,  for  the  Chinese  kowkow  —  kaukau  in  the 
Hawaiian  adaptation  —  has  likewise  come  to  stay. 

Von's  most  peremptory  commands  often  trail  off  into 
the  engaging  eh?  that  charmed  our  ears  the  first  day  at 
Pearl  Lochs.  And  so,  as  I  say,  upon  us  has  been  bestowed 


OUR  HAWAII  179 

the  crowning  grace  of  all  the  gracious  treatment  accorded 
upon  Maui  —  the  Hawaiian  rendering  of  London,  which 
is  Lakana;  although  how  London  can  be  transmuted  into 
Lakana  is  as  much  a  mystery  as  the  mutation  of  Thurston 
into  Kakina.  At  any  rate,  my  pleased  partner  struts  as 
Lakana  Kanaka  (kanaka  means  literally  man},  while 
meekly  I  respond  to  Lakana  Wahine. 

Aboard  Claudine,  Maui  to  Honolulu, 
Wednesday,  July  24,  1907. 

One  felicitous  fact  about  our  travel  in  this  year  of 
grace  and  happy  circumstance  is  that  Jack  and  I  are  to- 
gether experiencing  many  things  novel  to  both.  Each  has 
hitherto  seen  a  bit  of  the  world ;  but  we  start  anew  in  a 
mutual  learning  of  long-desired  knowledge  of  other  races 
and  countries. 

From  Kahului  the  passengers  were  towed  on  a  big  lighter 
to  the  Claudine  rocking  well  offshore;  and,  watching 
Louis  von  Tempsky's  lean,  military  figure  growing  smaller 
on  the  receding  wharf,  we  felt  a  surge  of  emotion  at  parting. 
"He's  all  man,  that  Von,"  Jack  said,  hastily  turning  away 
and  lighting  a  cigarette.  "He's  pure  gold,"  Harriet  Thurs- 
ton murmured  from  long  acquaintance.  And  in  my  ears 
still  rang  the  quaint  cadences  of  his  voice,  rising  from  the 
cinder-slopes  of  Haleakala,  or  heard  from  smoking  corral, 
or  hammock  on  the  beach,  in  little  hulas  of  his  own  devising. 
Aloha,  Von,  and  all  Von's  own ;  aloha  nui  oe  —  which 
spells  all  the  love  in  the  world,  now  and  always. 

From  the  deck  we  saw  his  fine  beef-cattle  being  towed 
swimming  out  to  the  steamer,  and  crowded  in  the  main- 
deck  forward,  bound  for  the  Honolulu  market.  And  when 
the  Claudine  swept  out  of  the  roadstead,  we  gazed  our 
last,  through  daylight  into  dark,  upon  old  Haleakala,  whose 
stern  head  only  once  looked  out  from  a  rosy  sunset  smother. 

The  moon  came  up  like  a  great  electric  globe,  spilling 


i8o  OUR  HAWAII 

pools  of  brilliant  light  in  the  inky  water.  At  Lahaina  the 
steamer  lay  off  to  take  aboard  a  few  passengers,  and  we 
glimpsed  the  infrequent  lights  of  the  little  quiet  town  that 
had  been  our  unexpected  first  port  on  the  island  which 
had  proved  so  undisappointing  in  all  its  phases.  We 
could  have  wished  nothing  better  than  to  disembark 
again  at  Sleepy  Lahaina,  mosquitoes,  wet  tenting,  reckless 
bridges,  burned  faces  and  all,  and  repeat  the  whole 
realized  holiday  planned  so  splendidly  by  our  good  genius, 
Lorrin  Thurston,  who  is  ever  too  steeped  in  affairs  to  spend 
adequate  leisure  in  these  lands  of  his  own  devoted  love. 
While  a  man  is  accumulating  the  means  of  ultimate  oppor- 
tunity, the  precious  years  and  blood  of  youth  flow  by  into 
the  limbo  of  lost  things.  Long  ago  I  entreated  Jack  to 
hold  before  his  mental  eye  a  time  not  too  far  distant  when 
he  might  rest  brain  and  hand.  But  from  what  I  have 
learned  of  his  dynamic  temperament  and  boundless  energy, 
and  that  brain  that  seems  forever  unsatisfied  and  that 
must  always  be  reaching  for  attainable  and  unattainable,  I 
am  sure  he  will,  as  he  says,  " never  rust  out." 

"  There  is  so  much  to  do,"  he  will  repeat,  his  great  eyes 
full  of  visions,  "so  much  to  learn,  to  read.  The  days 
and  nights  of  a  thousand  years  are  not  long  enough." 

NUUANU  VALLEY,  Thursday,  August  i,  1907. 

It  seems  that  we  are  to  know  many  homes  in  Hawaii  Nei. 
Now  it  is  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thurston,  and  their  family  of 
one  daughter  and  two  sons,  who  have  lifted  us,  bag  and 
baggage,  from  the  August  fervency  of  Waikiki  to  a  cooler 
site  within  the  "first  shower"  level  of  Nuuanu.  Here,  at 
the  end  of  a  short  side  street,  their  roomy  house  juts  from 
the  lip  of  a  ferny  ravine  worn  by  a  tumultuous  watercourse 
from  the  Koolau  Mountains.  And  here,  on  the  edge  of 
the  city,  from  the  windows  of  our  second-story  rooms,  over 
the  banks  of  the  stream,  we  can  see,  across  fertile  plains 


OUR  HAWAII  181 

broken  with  green  hillocks,  the  blue,  velvet  masses  of  the 
Waianae  Range,  and,  below,  can  pick  out  Pearl  Lochs 
and  the  silvered  s^urf-Hne  of  the  coast  around  to  Honolulu 
Harbor. 

From  a  broad  lanai,  at  table,  morning,  noon,  and  night, 
can  be  observed  the  life  of  the  port,  the  movement  of  ships 
and  steamers  arriving  from  and  departing  for  the  storied 
harbors  of  all  the  world.  Even  Waikiki  is  visible,  with  its 
eternally  lovely  headland,  Diamond  Head.  Jack,  at  work, 
must  needs  sit  with  back  resolute  against  the  distracting 
windows  that  set  him  dreaming  and  talking  to  me  of  the 
future  of  the  Snark. 

"  Think,  think  where  we  are  bound  —  the  very  names 
stir  all  the  younger  red  corpuscles  in  one!  —  Bankok, 
Celebes,  Madagascar,  Java,  Sumatra,  Natal  —  oh,  I'll 
take  you  to  them  all;  and  your  lap  shall  be  filled  with 
pearls,  my  dear,  and  we  shall  have  them  set  in  fretted  gold 
by  the  smiths  of  the  Orient." 

Whereupon,  with  sudden  severity,  he  breaks  off  with: 
"There  —  don't  talk  to  me  any  more,  woman !  How  am 
I  going  to  get  my  thousand  words  done,  to  pay  for  those 
pearls  we're  going  to  buy  in  the  Paumotus  and  Torres 
Straits,  and  all  that  turtle  shell  from  Melanesia,  if  you  keep 
me  from  work  now !"  —  Poor  me,  speechless,  with  clasped 
hands  of  transport  in  his  own  rapturous  imaginings  !  But, 
since  this  youngling  philosopher,  who  always  dreams  with 
his  two  feet  upon  solid  earth,  seldom  fails  to  bring  his  in- 
tentions to  pass,  safely  enough  may  I  count  upon  the  gleam- 
ing sea-seeds  and  polished  turtle-scales,  the  adventuring 
for  which  is  seven  eighths  of  the  prize. 

In  the  shady  spaces  of  this  big  house,  the  Thurstons 
accord  us  the  perfect  entertainment  of  freedom  to  come  and 
go  at  our  own  sweet  will,  for  they  are  as  busy  as  we.  At 
table,  and  afterward  lounging  in  hanging-couches  and 
great  reclining  chairs,  we  listen  rapt  to  Kakina's  fascinating 
memories  of  the  old  regime,  from  his  missionary  childhood 


182  OUR  HAWAII 

on  through  the  variable  fortunes  of  the  doomed  monarchies, 
in  which  he  bore  his  important  part.  And  he,  wisely  reti- 
cent except  with  those  he  knows  are  deeply  appreciative  of 
the  romance  and  tragedy  of  the  Hawaiian  race  and  dynasties, 
delves  into  his  mine  of  information  with  never  a  palling 
attention  from  us.  "If  I  only  had  inside  my  own  head 
what  he  knows  so  well,"  mourns  Jack,  "how  I  could  write 
about  these  Islands.  —  Just  listen  to  this:"  and  he  reads 
to  me  from  notes  he  has  made,  or  relates  some  incident  of 
unparalleled  romance  in  the  annals  of  the  kingdom. 

Of  a  late  afternoon,  Mrs.  Thurston  and  I  drive  down 
the  palmy  avenue  into  the  architectural  jumble  of  the  busi- 
ness center,  picturesque  despite  its  intrinsically  unbeautiful 
buildings,  what  of  foreign  shops  and  faces  and  costumes. 
Here  we  abstract  her  husband  from  the  Advertiser  editorial 
sanctum,  and  Jack  from  the  barber's  shop ;  afterward 
driving  for  an  hour  in  the  bewilder  of  old  wandering  hi- 
biscus byways  and  narrow  streets,  where  hide,  in  a  riot  of 
foliage,  the  most  exquisite  little  old  cottages  of  both  native 
and  foreign  elements.  Thus,  on  the  way  to  and  fro,  we 
become  acquainted  with  the  city  known  and  loved  until 
death  by  travelers  like  Isabella  Bird,  whose  book  still  holds 
place,  with  me,  as  the  sweetest  interpretation  of  the  Hawaii 
we  have  thus  far  seen. 

One  evening  we  left  behind  the  homes  that  stray  over 
the  lower  slopes  of  the  purple-rosy,  worn-down  crater  of 
Punch  Bowl,  Puowaina ;  wound  up  past  the  Portuguese 
settlement  that  hangs,  overgrown  with  flowers,  on  hap- 
hazard rough-quarried  terraces,  and  ascended  through  a 
luxuriant  growth  of  blossoming,  fruiting  cactus,  to  the 
height  of  five  hundred  feet,  where  we  stood  at  the  mouth 
of  the  perfect  crater  basin  that  had  suggested  the  name  of 
Punch  Bowl.  This  lesser  cone,  blown  out  by  a  compara- 
tively recent,  final  upheaval  between  the  spurs  of  the  older 
peaks  and  the  Pacific,  standing  isolated  as  it  does,  we  can 
now  see  should  be  visited  early  in  one's  sojourn  in  Honolulu, 


OUR  HAWAII  183 

for  it  is  a  remarkable  point  from  which  to  orient  oneself  to 
the  city's  topography.  And  lo,  a  white  speck  on  the  water- 
front, we  could  make  out  the  Snark,  moored  opposite  a 
leviathan  black  freighter.  From  the  mauka  edge  of  the 
Bowl  we  looked  up  Pauoa,  one  of  the  wooded  vales  that 
rend  Honolulu's  matchless  background,  flanked  with  blade- 
sharp  green  ridges. 

For  the  present,  although  we  miss  the  convenient  swim- 
ming of  Waikiki,  welcome  indeed  is  this  chance  to  acquaint 
ourselves  with  other  phases  of  this  Paradise  at  the  cross- 
roads of  the  Pacific. 

Sunday,  August  4,  1907. 

"Mate,  you  know,  or  I  think  you  know,  how  little  figure 
fame  cuts  with  me,  except  in  so  far  as  it  brings  you  and  me 
the  worth-while  things  —  the  free  air  and  earth,  sky  and 
sea,  and  the  opportunities  of  knowing  worth-while  people." 
Thus  Jack,  descanting  upon  some  of  the  rare  privileges 
that  money  cannot  buy  but  which  his  work  has  earned 
him  in  all  self-respect.  Which  leads  to  the  observa- 
tion that  in  this  community  composed  of  groups  of  the 
closest  aristocracies  in  the  world,  bar  none,  to  quote  Jack's 
sober  judgment,  mere  wealth  cannot  buy  the  favor  of  their 
hospitality.  It  is  a  well-recommended  tourist  who  ever 
sees  behind  the  malihini  social  atmosphere  of  Honolulu. 
And  of  all  the  exclusive  spirit  manifested  by  the  kamaainas, 
none  is  more  difficult  to  conquer  than  that  of  the  elder 
Hawaiian  and  part-Hawaiian  families. 

So  it  was  with  quiet  gratification  that  we  two,  in 
company  with  the  Churches,  set  out  day  before  yester- 
day for  the  out-of-town  retreat  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry 
Macfarlane,  members  of  the  same  family  with  whom  we 
have  come  in  contact  from  time  to  time,  since  the  day  we 
first  shook  the  Commodore's  hand  in  Pearl  Lochs. 

Over  the  Pali  we  went,  and  this  second  view  lost  none  of 
the  glamorous  memory  of  the  former.  Now  that  I  have 


184  OUR  HAWAII 

seen  other  glories  of  Hawaii,  I  find  that  no  comparison  can 
be  made.  The  wonder  of  the  Nuuanu  Pali  stands  unique. 

Descending  the  Pali  zigzags  to  the  main  road,  we  soon 
turned  off  to  the  left  and  rolled  over  the  red  loops  of  a 
branch  drive  to  the  very  base  of  the  Mirrored  Mountains, 
where  nestles  Ahuimanu,  "  Refuge  of  Birds."  It  is  a 
beauteous  spot,  more  than  faintly  Spanish  in  suggestion, 
where  an  old  house,  in  sections  connected  by  arbors, 
rambles  about  a  court  of  green  lawn  that  terraces  down  to 
the  hospitable  gate.  The  Spanish-mission  effect  of  the 
low  architecture  with  its  arbors  is  enhanced  by  the  fact 
that  it  occupies  the  site  of  an  old  Catholic  institution, 
built  by  the  first  French  Bishop  of  Honolulu  as  a  place 
where  he  might  retire  for  meditation  and  prayer.  A  short 
distance  behind  the  present  buildings  the  precipitous 
mountain  rises  until  its  head  is  lost  in  the  clouds.  Some- 
where on  its  face,  reached  by  a  stiff  trail,  hides  a  pocket, 
a  small,  green  solitude,  called  the  Bishop's  Garden.  From 
this  the  trail  climbs  so  steeply  that  it  is  said  none  but  the 
olden  natives  could  surmount  it,  and  one  young  priest  lost 
his  life  making  the  attempt. 

Adown  the  terraced  walk,  with  this  background  of  ro- 
mance and  stern  beauty,  stepped  our  part-Hawaiian  hostess 
with  the  inimitable  stately  bearing  of  her  chiefly  race,  clad 
in  ample-flowing  white  holoku ;  and  a  little  behind  walked 
her  daughter,  Helen,  as  stately  and  graceful  if  more  girlishly 
slender.  Our  welcome  was  of  a  warmth  and  courtesy  that 
still  further  bore  out  the  Spanish  air  of  the  place.  But 
Hawaiian  manners  and  hospitality  were  never  patterned 
upon  the  Spanish  or  any  other;  they  are  original,  and  as 
natural  to  these  gracious  souls  as  the  breath  of  their  nostrils. 

In  a  few  moments  we  all  emerged  from  our  rooms  in 
bathing  attire,  and  walked  barefoot  along  a  grassy  path- 
way wet  with  a  fresh  rain  shot  from  the  near  clouds  that 
hid  the  upstanding  heights,  to  a  large  cement  pool  fed  from 
a  waterfall.  The  sun  had  fallen  untimely  behind  the 


(i)  Hana.     (2)  The  Red  Ruin  of  Haleakala.     (3)  Von  and  Kakina. 


OUR  HAWAII  185 

valley  wall,  while  the  air  was  anything  but  summery  in  this 
nook  where  daylight  is  of  short  duration;  but  the  crisp 
shock  of  cold  water  sent  blood  and  spirit  a-tingling. 
Before  we  had  finished  a  game  of  water-tag,  there  was  a 
merry  eruption  of  young  cousins  from  the  city,  several  of 
whom  we  greeted  as  acquaintances.  Boys  and  girls,  all  in 
swimming  suits  or  muumuus,  they  turned  the  tranquil 
late-afternoon  into  a  rollicking  holiday,  some  making  di- 
rectly for  the  pool,  some  playing  hand  ball,  and  all  wasting 
no  moment  of  their  youth  and  high  spirits  while  the  light 

lasted. 

In  the  absence  of  her  husband,  Mrs.  Macfarlane  pre- 
sided at  the  head  of  a  long  table  that  nearly  filled  the 
low-ceilinged,  oblong  room  in  a  wing  of  the  old  house,  and 
the  more  racket  the  hungry  swarm  raised,  the  more  be- 
nignly she  beamed  upon  our  funning.  The  greater  the 
number  of  guests  and  their  appetite,  the  greater  the  content 
of  the  Hawaii-born. 

Following  dinner,  we  sat  or  lay  about  in  the  soft-illu- 
mined living-room,  into  the  past  blown  all  the  bashful  re- 
serve that  unknowing  ones  mistake  for  superciliousness 
in  the  Hawaiian.  Mrs.  Macfarlane  we  coaxed  from  smiling 
confusion  to  talk  of  her  family's  interesting  present  and 
past,  members  of  whom,  Cornwells  and  Macfarlanes, 
served  in  honored  capacities  under  the  crowned  heads  of 
her  country,  as  late  as  Queen  Liliuokalani's  reign. 

In  a  comprehensive  corner  window  seat  some  of  the 
young  men  sprawled  reading  magazines,  and  a  quartet  at 
the  card-table  was  oblivious  to  all  comforts  of  deep  easy- 
chairs,  pillowed  floor-nooks,  and  indoor  hammocks.  One 
golden-eyed  boy  on  a  scarlet  hassock  strummed  an  ukulele 
to  a  low  song  to  his  lady-love,  who  gazed  back  languorously 
out  of  great  soft  Hawaiian  eyes,  from  the  cushioned  recess 
of  a  hanging-chair  —  lovely  as  an  exotic  blossom,  in  her 
long,  clinging  holoku  of  rose-flowered  silken  stuff.  Oh, 
we  were  very  Spanish  this  night  —  and  all-Hawaiian. 


i86  OUR  HAWAII 

And  yet,  there  is  but  a  trace  of  the  Hawaiian  stock  in 
any  of  these  —  like  Jack's  French,  or  my  own  Spanish 
strain  —  an  eighth,  perhaps,  a  sixteenth,  a  thirty-second; 
but  the  modicum  of  golden-brown  blood  that  they  are  heir 
to  lends  them  their  delicious  lack  of  sharp  edges.  Among 
them  one  is  gentled  and  loved  into  thinking  well  of  oneself 
and  all  mankind. 

"I  love  them,  I  love  them,  Mate.  I  have  Aloha  nui  loa 
for  them,  forever,"  Jack  murmured  as  we  pattered  over 
the  brick-flagging  of  the  fragrant  arbor  to  a  quaint  bed- 
room whose  small-paned  windows  might  have  looked  out 
upon  a  New  England  landscape. 

At  six  we  were  roused  by  the  shouting  clan  trooping  to 
the  pool,  and  the  indefatigable  Jack  rose  to  write  for  a 
couple  of  hours  before  breakfast,  on  his  Maui  article, 
"The  House  of  the  Sun."  By  nine,  with  dewy- 
sweet  cables  of  roses  about  our  shoulders,  unwillingly  we 
bade  farewell  to  the  charming  household,  and  drove  under 
a  lovely  broken  sky  to  the  foot  of  the  Nuuanu  Pali.  Here, 
as  much  for  the  experience  of  climbing  the  up-ended  ridges 
as  to  ease  the  burden  of  the  horses,  three  of  us  left  the 
carriage  for  Mrs.  Church  to  drive,  we  to  meet  her  at  the 
pass.  Except  for  a  short  climb  I  once  made  at  Schynige 
Platte  in  Switzerland,  this  wet  and  slippery  path,  lying 
straight  up  an  extremely  narrow  hog-back,  was  the  steepest 
and  most  difficult  of  my  life.  The  ground  drops  with 
startling  suddenness  on  either  hand  —  or  foot;  and  for 
me  it  was  not  infrequently  both  hand  and  foot.  But  we 
won  over  the  horses,  and  had  leisure  at  the  drafty  plat- 
form once  more  to  feast  our  unsatiated  eyes  on  the  wide 
beauty  of  the  scene  that  never  can  pall. 

My  husband,  who  holds  that  it  is  a  waste  of  valuable 
effort  to  shave  himself  when  he  might  be  enjoying  the 
soothing  ministrations  of  a  specialist,  went  to  the  barber 
in  town  while  I  shopped  in  the  fascinating  Japanese, 
Chinese,  Portuguese,  and  East  Indian  stores,  always  with 


OUR  HAWAII  187 

an  eye  to  the  fine  Filipino  and  other  embroideries,  pina 
or  pineapple  cloth,  of  all  exquisite  tints,  and  unusual  and 
gorgeous  stuffs  worn  by  the  oriental  women  in  Honolulu  — 
stuffs  of  silk  and  wool  and  mysterious  fibers  impossible  to 
buy  in  the  States,  as  there  is  no  demand.  And  the  heart 
feminine  thrills  not  in  vain  over  kimonos  and  mandarin 
coats,  for  the  prices  are  absurdly  cheap,  and  the  colors 
food  for  the  eye,  with  untold  possibilities  for  household 
as  well  as  personal  decoration. 

From  little  houses  and  huts  on  the  rolling  fields,  parties 
of  natives,  men,  women,  old  and  young,  and  naked  brown 
imps  of  children,  gather  to  bathe  in  a  rocky  basin  of  the 
ravine ;  and  from  the  balconies  of  the  big  house  often  we 
watch  them  sporting,  in  gaudy,  wet-clinging  muumuus, 
unaware  of  any  haole  observer  —  their  natural,  carefree 
selves,  splashing,  diving,  laughing  and  singing,  launder- 
ing their  hair,  and  calling  to  one  another  in  wild,  sweet 
gutturals.  This  afternoon  we  were  struck  with  a  new 
note  —  a  strange,  savage  chanting.  In  it  there  was 
distinct,  accentuated  rhythm,  but  no  music  as  we  under- 
stand the  term  —  only  the  harsh,  primitive  voicing  of  a 
man  with  the  noble,  grayed  head  of  the  old  Hawaiians. 
Listening  to  the  curious  untamed  note,  the  like  of  which  we 
had  never  heard,  Mr.  Thurston  said:  "You  are  lucky  to 
hear  that  under  these  circumstances  —  when  the  old  fellow 
thinks  no  one  but  his  own  people  are  listening.  He  is 
probably  intoning  the  oli,  or  genealogy,  of  one  of  the 
swimmers.  There  was  no  music,  what  we  would  call 
music,  until  the  missionaries  brought  it  here." 

In  the  sudden  transition  from  the  ancient  tabu  system 
to  an  entirely  changed  order  that  came  with  the  death  of 
Kamehameha  I  in  1819,  followed  by  the  arrival  from  Boston 
a  couple  of  years  later  of  the  first  missionaries,  the  old 
"singing"  became  obsolescent.  The  new  music,  with  its 
pa,  ko,  li,  conforming  to  our  do,  re,  mi,  was  taken  up  by 


i88  OUR  HAWAII 

every  one,  soon  becoming  universal  with  these  people  who 
learned  with  such  facility ;  and  out  of  the  simple,  melodi- 
ous Christian  hymning,  the  natives  evolved  a  music  inocu- 
lated with  their  old  rhythms,  that  has  become  uniquely 
their  own.  Captain  James  King,  who  sailed  with  Captain 
Cook  on  his  disastrous  last  voyage,  makes  the  interesting 
statement  that  the  men  and  women  chanted  in  parts. 

The  predominance  of  vowel  and  labial  sounds  lends  a 
distinct  character  to  the  tone-quality  of  Polynesian  lan- 
guage, lacking  as  it  does  our  consonants  b,  c,  s,  and  d,  f,  g, 
j,  q,  x,  and  z,  so  that  the  upper  cavities  of  the  throat  are 
not  called  into  full  play.  Therefore  the  voice,  with  its 
Italian  vowels,  developed  a  low  and  sensuous  quality  that, 
when  strained  for  dramatic  or  passional  expression,  breaks 
into  the  half -savage,  barbaric  tones  that  stir  the  ferine 
blood  lying  so  close  to  the  outer  skin  of  the  human.  Some- 
times there  is  a  throaty  musical  gurgle  that  seems  a  tone- 
language  out  of  the  very  tie-ribs  of  the  human  race. 

Jack,  listening  with  all  of  him,  seems  lost  in  another  world. 
The  phrasing  was  made  by  old  Hawaiians  to  suit  the  verse 
of  the  mele,  a  sort  of  chanted  saga,  and  not  to  express  a 
musical  idea.  The  cadencing  was  marked  by  a  prolonged 
trilling  or  fluctuating  movement  called  i'i,  in  which  the 
tones  rose  and  fell,  touching  the  main  note  that  formed  the 
framework  of  the  chant,  repeatedly  springing  away  for 
short  intervals  —  a  half-step  or  even  less.  In  the  hula  the 
verses  are  shorter,  with  a  repetitional  refrain  of  the  last 
phrase  of  each  stanza.  That  full-throated,  lissom-limbed 
girl  at  the  christening  feast  on  the  peninsula  illustrated 
some  of  the  foregoing  when  she  sang  for  the  dancers. 

With  a  pleasant  thrill  I  looked  forward  to  meeting  Alice 
Roosevelt  Longworth  at  a  dinner  and  dance  given  this 
evening  at  the  Seaside  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Church.  In  one's 
imagination  she  seems  the  epitome  of  the  American  Girl, 
and  I  found  her  far  more  beautiful  than  her  pictures,  with 


OUR  HAWAII  189 

eyes  wide  apart,  unafraid  and  level,  looking  golden  as  to- 
pazes from  across  the  table  in  a  glow  of  yellow  candleshades 
upon  yellow  roses.  And  when  "Princess  Alice"  smiles, 
she  smiles,  with  eyes  as  well  as  lips.  There  is  inner  as  well 
as  outer  poise  about  her  brown-golden  head,  and  she  is 
straight  as  a  young  Indian  and  fair  as  a  lily  —  a  slender, 
jeweled  thing  in  clinging  blue  brocade,  her  slim  throat 
clasped  by  a  sparkling  collar  of  diamonds. 

She  and  Jack  were  in  no  time  cheek-by-jowl  in  a  heated 
argument  upon  "nature-faking"  that  would  have  delighted, 
by  proxy,  her  illustrious  father,  with  whom  Jack  has  all 
these  weeks  been  tilting  in  the  press;  and  I  heard  him 
offering  to  back  a  bull-dog  against  the  Colonel's  wolf-dog, 
in  the  latter's  back  yard ! 

As  for  me,  I  sat  between  Nicholas  Longworth  and  my 
Jack's  old  friend  "Jack"  Atkinson.  And  I  found  the 
latter  solid,  square,  looking  true  in  body  and  spirit ;  blue- 
eyed  and  sure,  by  all  repute  too  busy  being  himself,  and 
working  for  the  other  selves  of  his  Islands,  ever  to  find 
time  for  marrying  or  for  accumulating  gold  either  from 
business  or  from  the  abundant  red  soil  of  Hawaii.  Mr. 
Longworth  is  a  solid  sort  of  man,  too  —  agreeable  and 
humorous  in  the  bargain ;  and  our  talk  at  table  —  strange 
subject  for  a  banquet  —  was  largely  concerned  with  the 
welfare  of  the  Leper  Settlement,  in  which  both  he  and 
Mr.  Atkinson  are  extraordinarily  interested. 

The  Longworths  were  scheduled  to  serve  on  the  com- 
mittee receiving  Secretary  Strauss  and  his  party  from 
Washington;  and  while  Jack  and  I  first  begged  off  from 
attending  the  formal  occasion,  when  we  learned  it  was  to 
be  in  the  old  throne  room  of  the  Palace,  "I  suppose  you'd 
like  to  see  it  all  —  and  it  will  be  worth  seeing,"  Jack  sug- 
gested. And  so,  after  a  few  dances  in  the  lanai  to  the 
melting  orchestra,  Mr.  Atkinson  whirled  us  away  in  his 
machine  for  the  Executive  Building,  standing  in  its  illumi- 
nated gardens.  Soon  we  were  passing  along  the  dignified 


OUR  HAWAII 

line  of  those  receiving,  out  of  which  Mrs.  Longworth,  who  is 
refreshingly  unbound  by  convention,  temporarily  strayed  to 
bombard  Jack  with  a  new  argument  in  favor  of  the  wolf-dog 
she  had  essayed  to  champion  against  his  imaginary  bull-pup. 
But  what  snared  our  fancy  on  this  occasion  was  not  the 
gathering  of  august  American  statesmen  and  their  Euro- 
pean-gowned, bejeweled  ladies,  nor  the  impressive  meeting 
between  Secretary  Strauss  from  Washington  and  Governor 
Carter  of  Hawaii.  Our  eyes  were  most  often  with  the  throng 
of  high-caste  Hawaiians  in  the  lofty  hall,  more  especially  the 
splendid  women,  gowned  in  their  distinguishing  and  dis- 
tinguished white  holokus,  standing  proud-bosomed,  gazing 
with  their  beautiful  eyes  of  brown  at  the  white-and-gold 
girl  who  is  the  daughter  of  their  alien  ruler,  President 
Theodore  Roosevelt.  And  we  wondered  what  memories 
were  playing  in  their  brains  as  they  unavoidably  recalled 
other  brilliant  occasions  when  they  had  filed  by  the  imposing 
crimson  throne  yonder,  to  bow  kissing  the  hands  of  their 
hereditary  kings,  and  their  last  queen.  She,  H.  R.  H. 
Liliuokalani,  has  resolutely  declined  all  invitations  what- 
soever to  this  house  of  her  royal  triumph  and  her  humiliat- 
ing imprisonment,  since  1895,  the  year  of  her  formal 
renouncement  of  all  claim  to  the  crown,  and  her  appeal 
for  clemency  to  those  who  had  taken  part  in  the  insurrec- 
tion. 

HONOLULU,  Tuesday,  August  6,  1907. 

A  few  kamaainas  of  Honolulu  have  long  since  discovered 
the  climatic  and  scenic  advantages  of  Tantalus,  Puu  Ohia, 
one  of  the  high,  wooded  ridges  behind  the  city,  more  par- 
ticularly in  the  sultry  summer  months.  Tantalus  is  ideal 
for  suburban  nests,  overlooking  as  it  does  the  city  and 
Waikiki  District,  well-forested,  with  opportunity  for 
vigorous  exercise  on  the  steep  sides  of  Makiki  and  Pauoa 
valleys,  and  to  their  rustic  eyry  at  the  head  of  Makiki 
Valley,  the  Thurstons  carried  us  by  saddle. 


OUR  HAWAII  191 

One  afternoon,  while  I  languished  with  a  headache, 
Jack  gleefully  returned  from  a  tramp  with  his  host,  bring- 
ing me  some  of  the  wild  fruits  and  nuts  of  the  mountain, 
among  them  water-lemons  and  rose-apples.  The  first 
are  round  balls  of  about  two-inch  diameter,  with  greenish- 
brown,  crisp  rind  full  of  tart,  pulpy,  spicy  seeds.  Although 
quite  different  in  flavor  and  color,  the  formation  reminds 
one  of  pomegranates  and  guavas.  But  the  rose-apple !  — • 
evergreen  native  of  the  West  Indies,  it  is  too  good  to  be  true, 
for  the  edible  shell  has  a  flavor  precisely  like  the  odor  of 
attar  of  roses,  which  is  my  favorite  perfume.  Almost  it 
makes  one  feel  native  to  the  soil  of  a  strange  country,  to 
nourish  the  blood  of  life  with  its  vegetation. 

Last  night,  back  in  town,  Jack,  at  the  request  of  Mr. 
Thurston  and  the  Research  Club  of  which  he  is  a  member, 
delivered  his  much-bruited  lecture,  " Revolution,"  at  the 
home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clinton  G.  Hutchins,  a  most  cordial 
pair. 

This  paper  of  Jack's,  an  arraignment  of  the  capitalist  class 
for  its  mismanagement  of  human  society,  was  originally 
a  partly  extempore  flare  of  the  spirit,  several  years  ago 
before  an  audience  of  nearly  five  thousand  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  California,  where  he  himself  had  studied  during 
part  of  a  Freshman  year.  President  Benjamin  Ide 
Wheeler,  who  had  for  some  time  been  after  Jack  to  lec- 
ture, "And  choose  your  own  subject,"  was  appropriately 
aghast  at  what  he  had  made  himself  responsible  for,  and 
there  was  great  subsequent  pilikia  in  both  college  and 
press. 

The  capitalist  dailies,  as  was  their  wont,  deliberately 
misreported,  without  the  context,  the  speaker's  quotation  of 
Lloyd  Garrison's  notorious  "To  hell  with  the  Constitution," 
and  credited  the  treasonable  utterance  of  the  famous 
agitator  of  bygone  days  to  our  twentieth  century  human- 
itarian. 

Subsequently,  in  1905,  Jack,  who  had  been  elected  Pres- 


i92  OUR  HAWAII 

ident  of  the  International  Socialist  Society,  launched  the 
same  speech  in  Harvard  Annex,  without  unduly  shocking 
intellectual  Massachusetts;  but  when  Woolsey  Hall,  the 
fabulous  "million  dollar  hall"  at  Yale,  rang  with  the  ad- 
dress, NeW  Haven  banished  all  of  Jack's  books  from  the 
chaste  shelves  of  its  public  libraries,  with  somewhat  disas- 
trous results  to  his  book-sales.  A  great  weekly  purchased 
the  article  (which  is  no  more  or  less  than  a  mere  statement 
of  provable  facts,  and  the  position  and  intention  of  the 
Socialist  Party),  but  has  never  yet  had  the  courage  to 
publish  it. 

But  to  return :  Hawaii  knows  little  of  socialism,  for 
she  lacks  the  problems  that  confront  the  United  States 
and  other  great  countries.  Sugar  is  her  backbone,  labor 
is  almost  entirely  imported,  and  handled  in  a  patriarchal 
way  that  makes  for  contentment,  especially  in  so  rigor- 
less  a  climate.  Feudal  Hawaii  is;  but  the  masters  are 
benevolent. 

And  Jack,  who  stepped  before  the  Research  Club  with 
the  blue  fire  of  challenge  in  his  eyes,  his  spirited  head  well 
back,  and  a  clarion  in  his  beautiful  voice,  found  these  gentle- 
men to  be  their  own  vindication  of  the  name  they  had  chosen 
for  their  Club.  For  with  open  minds  they  hearkened  to 
this  passionate  youngster,  insolent  with  righteous  certitude 
of  his  solution  of  the  undisputed  wrongs  of  the  groaning 
old  earth ;  and  presently,  as  if  catching  the  unmistakable, 
unexpected  atmosphere  of  intelligent  and  courteous  atten- 
tion, Jack  muted  his  golden  trumpets. 

The  frank,  interested  discussion  lasted  into  the  small 
hours,  and  Lorrin  Thurston,  no  mean  antagonist  with  his 
lightning-flash  arguments,  who  laid  every  possible  gin  and 
pitfall  for  Jack's  undoing,  beamed  upon  the  rather  star- 
tling guest  he  had  introduced  among  his  tranquil  contem- 
poraries, and  whispered  to  me : 

"That  boy  of  yours  is  the  readiest  fellow  on  his  feet  in 
controversy  that  I  ever  laid  eyes  upon  !" 


OUR  HAWAII  193 

HONOLULU,  Wednesday,  August  14,  1907. 

To-morrow  we  embark  once  more  upon  our  Boat  of 
Dreams,  for  the  Big  Island,  whence,  if  the  engines  prove 
satisfactory,  and  our  new  skipper,  Captain  James  Lang- 
horne  Warren  of  Virginia,  measures  up  to  Jack's  judg- 
ment, we  shall  sail  from  Hilo  in  earnest  for  the  South 
Seas.  Captain  Rosehill  and  the  crew  failed  to  assimilate, 
and  a  change  had  to  be  made. 

And  now,  a  few  notes  upon  these  latter  days  on  Oahu 
for  —  how  long?  Jack's  " Hawaii's  one  of  the  very  few 
places  I  care  to  repeat,"  would  seem  assurance  that  we 
have  not  looked  our  last  upon  Diamond  Head,  the 
Mirrored  Mountains,  and  many  another  unforgetable 
vision. 

No  one  interested  should  fail  to  visit  the  Entomological 
and  Sugar  Cane  Experiment  Station,  where  the  clear- 
eyed  and  sometimes  tired-eyed  scientists  are  glad  to  ex- 
plain the  remarkable  work  being  done  in  coping  with  all 
pestiferous  enemies  of  profitable  agriculture  in  the  Terri- 
tory. Mr.  "Joe"  Cooke,  midway  in  a  drive  to  the  polo 
field,  allowed  us  a  fascinating  hour  or  two  with  our  eyes 
glued  to  wondrous  microscopes  that  showed  us  an  un- 
dreamed world  of  infinitesimal  life. 

In  the  open  air  once  more,  we  set  out  for  Moanalua 
Valley,  to  see  the  polo  ponies  that  were  being  conditioned 
for  the  great  game,  which  we  attended  two  days  later. 
The  players  of  Hawaii  cherish  a  widespread  and  enviable 
reputation  for  their  keen,  clean  game. 
•  Saturday  dawned  clear  and  fine,  after  a  hard  rain.  The 
beautiful  course  around  the  wet  and  slippery  field  was 
lined  with  automobiles,  while  an  upper  terrace  furnished 
the  parked  carriages  an  unobstructed  view.  Miss  Rose 
Davison,  astride  a  mighty  red  roan,  officer  of  the  S.P.C.A., 
and  a  splendidly  efficient  character,  marshaled  the  crowd, 
with  the  assistance  of  a  staff  of  mounted  Hawaiian  police  - 


i94  OUR  HAWAII 

magnificent  fellows  all.  Every  one  loves  the  Hawaiian 
police  for  their  ability,  courtesy,  and  distinguished  appear- 
ance. 

Miss  Davison  asserted  her  authority  in  several  instances, 
letting  down  a  checkrein,  examining  a  harness,  criticiz- 
ing the  condition  of  a  horse,  whether  from  overdriving  or 
under-feeding,  or  a  dozen  other  misfortunes  —  sparing  nor 
high  nor  low  of  the  public  that  flocked  to  the  green  terrace 
in  every  sort  of  vehicle,  from  faultlessly  appointed  victorias 
and  smart  traps  to  the  humblest  carts  and  buggies.  When 
the  sturdy  and  determined  Rose  first  went  into  action  on 
Oahu,  she  put  out  of  business  every  Japanese  stage-line 
over  the  Pali,  the  teams  of  which  had  long  been  a  scandal. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Longworth,  in  Jack  Atkinson's  machine, 
next  to  Mr.  Cooke's,  declared  that  this  tournament, 
set  in  the  exquisite  little  valley,  and  played  so  inimitably, 
was  quite  the  most  exciting  they  had  ever  witnessed  any- 
where. 

"Do  you  realize,  my  dear,"  Jack  remarked  that  night, 
returning  at  twelve  from  a  Press  Club  dinner,  "that  this 
and  the  night  on  the  Kamehameha  are  the  only  two  I 
have  been  out  without  you  in  the  three  months  we've  been 
here?  —  Not  such  a  bad  little  husband,  eh?"  he  grinned; 
then  roguishly  spoiled  the  implied  compliment  by  adding, 
as  he  picked  up  the  morning  paper  which  he  had  had  no 
leisure  to  scan,  "I  guess  I'm  lazy!"  A  moment  later 
he  added;  "But  sure  as  you're  born,  I'm  going  to  be 
credited  with  some  of  the  pranks  of  the  boys  from  the 
Snark,  for  one  or  another  of  them  is  taken  for  me  at  every 
turn  —  and  there  are  lots  of  people  who'll  make  the  most 
of  it!" 

"Let  'm :  what  do  we  care ?  "  And  I  fell  asleep  to  dream 
of  a  sublimated  and  radiant  Rose  Davison,  clad  in  bronze 
chain-mail,  tilting,  upon  Gwen  von  Tempsky's  golden  polo 
pony  Jubilee,  at  hordes  of  Japanese  stages  drawn  by 
nightmare-toiling,  skeleton  horses. 


OUR  HAWAII  195 

We  had  heard  of  the  Bishop  Museum  as  being  one  of  the 
world's  best,  embracing  exhibits  that  cover  exhaustively 
every  phase  of  the  islands  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  historical, 
geographical,  ethnological,  zoological;  and  hither  Robert, 
elder  son  of  Mr.  Thurston,  took  us  one  afternoon.  De- 
spite the  exalted  repute  of  this  storehouse  of  antiquity,  we 
had  passed  it  by,  for  the  idea  of  wandering  through  a  stuffy 
public  building  on  a  hot  day,  concerning  ourselves  with 
lifeless  relics,  when  we  might  be  out  in  the  open-air  world  of 
the  quick,  had  never  appealed. 

Once  inside  the  portals  of  koa  wood,  as  ornamental  as 
precious  marbles,  we  knew  no  passing  of  time  until  the  hour 
of  their  closing  for  the  day.  The  building  alone  is  worthy 
of  close  inspection,  finished  as  it  is  throughout  with  that 
incomparable  hardwood.  In  the  older  sections,  the  timber 
has  been  fantastically  turned,  much  of  its  splendid  grain 
being  lost  in  convolutions  of  pillar  and  balustrade;  but 
modern  architects  have  utilized  the  wood  in  all  its  glory 
of  rich  gold,  mahogany-red,  maple-tints,  and  darker  shades, 
with  sympathetic  display  of  its  remarkable  traceries  that 
sometimes  take  the  form  of  ships  at  sea,  heads  of  animals, 
or  landscapes. 

The  Curator  of  the  Museum,  Dr.  William  T.  Brigham, 
spends  his  learned  years  in  the  absorbing  work  of  sustaining 
and  adding  to  the  excellence  of  his  famous  charge,  and  we 
were  sorry  not  to  have  a  glimpse  of  him.  But,  for  what 
reason  we  know  not,  he  entertains  a  violent  prejudice 
against  Jack  London,  and  on  this  day  refused  point-blank 
when  he  heard  we  were  within  his  sacred  precinct,  to  make 
an  appearance.  Surely,  a  peculiar  attitude  for  a  scientist ; 
and  quite  at  variance  with  our  friends  of  the  Research  Club. 

Of  all  the  invaluable  treasures  behind  glass,  we  lingered 
most  enchanted  before  the  superb  feather  cloaks,  or  capes, 
long  and  short,  of  almost  unbelievable  workmanship,  as 
well  as  helmets,  fashioned  of  wicker  and  covered  with  the 
same  tiny  feathers,  yellow  or  scarlet,  of  the  00,  mamo, 


196  OUR  HAWAII 


iy  and  akakane,  birds  now  practically  extinct,  and  modeled 
on  a  combined  Attic  and  Corinthian  pattern.  The  cloaks, 
robes  of  state,  called  mamo,  were  the  costly  insignia  of 
high  rank.  A  wondrous  surface  of  feathers,  black,  red, 
red-and-black,  yellow,  yellow-and-black,  upon  a  netting  of 
olona,  native  hemp.  Some  notion  of  the  wonder  of  these 
magnificent  garments  may  be  gained  by  the  statement  that 
nine  generations  of  kings  lapsed  during  the  construction  of 
one  single  mantle,  the  greatest  of  all  these  in  the  Bishop 
Museum,  that  fell  upon  the  godlike  shoulders  of  the  great 
Kamehameha.  Among  the  others,  beautiful  though  they 
be,  this  woof  of  mamo,  of  indescribable  glowing  yellow, 
like  Etruscan  gold,  stands  out  "like  a  ruby  amidst  carrots.'* 

All  this  royal  regalia,  blood-inherited  by  Mrs.  Pauahi 
Bishop,  together  with  the  kahilis,  formed  the  starting 
point  for  the  great  Museum.  And  the  kahilis  !  Their 
handles  are  inlaid  cunningly  with  turtle  shell  and  ivory 
and  pearl,  some  of  them  ten  to  thirty  feet  in  height,  topped 
by  brilliant  black  or  colored  cylinders  of  feathers  fifteen 
or  eighteen  inches  in  diameter. 

No  tapa  is  made  in  Hawaii  to-day,  although  these  people 
formerly  excelled  all  Polynesia  for  fineness  of  the  almost 
transparent,  paper-like  tissue,  which  was  worn,  several 
deep,  for  draping  the  human  form.  Now,  for  the  most 
part,  Hawaiian  tapa  can  be  seen  only  in  the  Museum, 
where  it  is  pasted  carefully  upon  diamond-paned  windows. 
There  is  little  resemblance  between  this  delicate  stuff  and 
the  beautiful  but  heavy  modern  tapas  of  Samoa,  with  which 
one  grows  familiar  in  the  curio  shops  of  Honolulu. 

A  painstakingly  correct  replica  of  the  volcano  Kilauea 
claimed  especial  attention,  in  view  of  our  visit  in  the  near 
future  to  the  real  vent  in  Mauna  Loa's  i4,ooo-foot  flank  ; 
and  we  lingered  over  a  remarkable  model,  worked  out  in 
wood  and  grass  and  stone,  of  an  ancient  temple  and  City 
of  Refuge,  or  heiau,  with  its  place  of  human  sacrifice  at 
one  end  of  the  inclosure.  A  gruesome  episode  took  place 


OUR  HAWAII  197 

shortly  after  this  model  was  installed.  A  young  Hawaiian, 
repairing  the  roof,  lost  balance  and  crashed  through,  break- 
ing a  gallery  railing  directly  above  the  imitation  sacrificial 
altar,  where  his  real  blood  was  spilled  —  Fate  his  execu- 
tioner, ilamuku. 

One  more  of  the  countless  exhibits,  and  I  am  done. 
Here  and  there  in  the  building,  stages  are  set  with  splendid 
waxen  Hawaiians  engaged  in  olden  pursuits,  such  as  basket- 
weaving  and  poi-pounding.  The  figures,  full-statured,  are 
startlingly  lifelike,  except  in  the  unavoidable  deadness  of 
the  clever  coloring.  It  is  impossible  to  imitate  the  living 
hue,  of  which  the  natives  say,  "You  can  always  see  the 
blood  of  an  Hawaiian  under  his  skin."  The  model  for  one 
of  the  best  of  these  figures  died  some  time  ago ;  and  to 
this  day  his  young  widow  comes,  and  brings  her  friends, 
to  admire  the  beautiful  image  of  the  lost  one. 

No  matter  how  the  very  thought  of  a  museum  aches  your 
feet,  and  back,  and  eyes,  do  not  pass  by  the  Bishop  Museum. 

It  was  our  good  fortune  to  be  bidden,  with  the  Thurstons, 
to  a  New  England  breakfast  at  the  Diamond  Head  seaside 
residence  of  Judge  and  Mrs.  Sanford  B.  Dole.  Judge 
Dole,  who  was  President  of  the  Provisional  Republic 
(often  called  the  Dole  Republic)  that  followed  the  downfall 
of  the  monarchy,  is  an  exceedingly  busy  man ;  and  so, 
rather  than  visit  and  be  visited  during  the  week,  at  eleven 
of  a  Sunday  he  and  Mrs.  Dole  welcome  their  friends  to 
dejeuners  that  have  become  famous. 

Imposingly  tall,  benignant  and  patriarchal,  blue-eyed 
and  healthy-skinned,  with  silver-white  hair  and  long 
beard,  the  Judge  is  unaffectedly  grand  and  courteous, 
making  a  woman  feel  herself  a  queen  with  his  thought  for 
her  every  comfort  —  here  a  cushion,  now  a  footstool, 
there  a  more  yielding  chair  or  lounge,  or  a  broad  palm- 
leaf  fan.  He  must  have  been  another  of  the  courtly  figures 
of  the  old  regime,  and  Jack  always  warms  to  the  instance 


198  OUR  HAWAII 

of  the  gallant  resistance  made  by  him  and  another  strip- 
ling, holding  the  Palace  doors  against  an  infuriated  mob 
during  an  uprising  incident  to  a  change  of  monarchs. 
"Can't  you  see  them?  Can't  you  see  the  two  of  them  - 
the  glorious  youth  of  them  risking  its  hot  blood  to  do  what 
it  saw  had  to  be  done!"  he  cries  with  glowing  apprecia- 
tion of  the  sons  of  men. 

Anna  Dole,  the  Judge's  wife,  is  a  forceful,  stately  woman 
of  gracious  manners,  with  handsome  eyes  rendered  more 
striking  by  her  beautiful  white  hair  and  snowy  garb  —  a 
diaphanous  holoku  of  sheerest  linen  and  rare  lace.  Jack 
could  not  keep  his  eyes  from  the  pleasant  sight  of  her,  as 
she  sat  across  from  her  reposeful  husband  at  table.  "I 
could  hardly  help  being  rude,"  he  said  afterward. 

And  groaning  board  is  just  what  it  was,  from  alligator 
pears  (it  is  Mrs.  Dole's  own  garden  pears  which  have  been 
ravishing  the  palate  of  my  husband  at  the  Thurstons' 
these  many  days),  and  big  spicy  Isabella  grapes,  papaias, 
enormous  luscious  Smyrna  figs,  mangoes,  pineapples,  and 
"sour-sop,"  a  curious  and  pleasant  fruit,  of  the  consistency 
of  cotton  or  marshmallow,  and  of  a  taste  that  can  be  best 
described  as  a  mixture  of  sweet  lemonade  and  crushed 
strawberries. 

Also  we  sampled  our  first  breadfruit,  roasted  over  coals, 
although  not  at  its  best  in  this  season.  Jack  and  I  con- 
cluded that  upon  closer  acquaintance  we  should  like  it 
as  well  as  taro  or  sweet  potatoes,  for  it  resembles  both 
potato  and  bread,  broken  open  and  steaming  its  toothsome 
soft  shellful  of  large  tender  seeds. 

But  this  exotic  menu  was  not  the  half.  We  were  ex- 
pected to  partake,  and  more  than  once,  of  accustomed  as 
well  as  extraordinary  breakfast  dishes  —  eggs  in  variety, 
crispy  bacon,  and  delicious  Kona  coffee  from  Leeward 
Hawaii  —  and,  to  bind  us  irrevocably  to  New  England 
tradition,  brown-bread  and  baked  pork  and  beans ! 

And  all  this  leisurely  breakfasting  was  done  to  the  ani- 


OUR  HAWAII  199 

mated  conversation  of  two  of  the  most  representative  of 
kamaainas,  who  talked  unreservedly  of  their  vivid  years 
and  their  ambitions  for  the  future  of  the  Islands.  Always 
and  ever  we  note  how  devoted  are  the  "big"  men  of  the 
Territory,  old  and  young  alike,  above  all  personal  aggran- 
dizement, to  the  interests  of  Hawaii.  It  is  an  example 
of  a  truly  benevolent  patriarchy. 

Following  the  repletion  of  this  justly  famous  matin  ban- 
quet, which,  it  scarce  need  be  urged,  one  should  approach 
sans  at  least  one  meal,  we  reclined  about  the  awninged 
lanai,  talking  or  listening  to  the  phonographic  voices  of 
the  world's  great  singers,  the  while  a  high  tide,  driven  by 
the  warm  Kona  wind,  broke  upon  coral  retaining  walls 
in  a  deep  rhythmic  obligato. 

"THE  DOCTORAGE,"  HOLUALOA,  HAWAII, 

Wednesday,  August  21,  1907. 

Long  ago,  when  the  building  and  purpose  of  the  Snark 
were  first  reported  in  the  press,  Dr.  E.  S.  Goodhue,  brother 
of  our  noble  Dr.  Will  Goodhue  on  Molokai,  wrote  to  Jack, 
bidding  us  welcome  when  we  should  put  in  at  Kailua,  in 
the  Kona  District  of  the  west  coast  of  Hawaii.  Subsequent 
correspondence  made  us  more  and  more  pleased  with  the 
prospect  of  knowing  the  physician.  And  here  we  are,  sur- 
rounded with  the  loving-kindness  of  his  little  family,  in 
their  home  nested  a  thousand  feet  up  the  side  of  Hualalai, 
"Child  of  the  Sun,"  a  lesser  peak  on  this  isle  of  mounts 
—  merely  eight  thousand  feet  in  height,  and  an  active  vol- 
cano within  the  century. 

There  was  a  touchingly  kind  gathering  of  Honolulu 
acquaintance  on  the  i5th,  to  bid  the  Snark  Godspeed  for 
the  Southern  Seas,  by  way  of  Kailua  and  Hilo  on  Hawaii. 
Jack's  eyes  were  a  trifle  dim  when,  piled  with  sumptuous 
leis,  he  waved  farewell  while  the  little  white  yacht,  under 
power,  moved  out  in  response  to  the  new  skipper's  low, 


200  OUR  HAWAII 

decisive  commands  —  a  very  different  craft,  or  so  we 
thought,  from  the  floating  wreck  that,  praying  to  be  un- 
noticed of  yachtsmen,  slipped  by  the  same  harbor  four 
months  earlier. 

With  the  exception  of  Nelson,  a  Scandinavian  deep- 
water  sailor,  we  all  fell  seasick  in  the  rough  channel ;  and 
next  day,  in  a  dead  calm  of  which  we  had  been  warned, 
in  Auau  Channel  between  Maui  and  the  low  island  of  Lanai, 
the  big  engine  was  started,  with  high  hopes  of  reaching 
Kailua  by  nightfall.  But  auwe!  Something  went  im- 
mediately wrong,  despite  the  months  of  expensive  repair, 
and  Jack's  face  was  a  study  as  we  exchanged  glances. 
"Seems  as  if  I  had  been  expecting  it  all  along,"  he  said 
finally ;  "but  it  does  make  one  feel  a  little  sore  in  the  old 
worn  place."  However,  we  called  upon  our  reserve  of 
patience  and  made  the  best  of  it.  The  break,  which  was 
in  the  original  casting,  occurred  in  the  circulating-pump 
that  keeps  the  engine  cool  when  running,  and  of  course 
the  engine  was  useless.  "The  original  bed-plate  had  a 
flaw,  too,"  Jack  did  not  need  remind  me.  "Why  couldn't 
this  flaw  show  on  the  trial  trips  at  Honolulu?"  And 
there  was  no  answer  except  "the  monstrous  and  incon- 
ceivable" that  marked  all  the  building  of  the  beautiful 
vessel. 

Haleakala  vouchsafed  occasional  glimpses  of  its  lofty 
head  at  sunset,  and  on  Sunday  we  sighted  Hawaii  above  a 
cloud-bank.  Crippled  as  we  were,  with  neither  engine  nor 
wind-power,  we  could  only  wonder  when  the  few  remaining 
miles  would  be  covered ;  for  still  in  our  ears  sounded  tales 
of  schooners  long  becalmed  off  the  Kona  coast,  and  of  one 
that  drifted  offshore  for  a  weary  month. 

Monday  night,  four  days  from  Honolulu,  the  Snark 
wafted  into  Kailua,  where  Kamehameha  died  in  1819, 
at  the  age  of  eighty-two,  his  searching  brain  to  the  last 
filled  with  curiosity  about  the  world  in  which  he  lived, 
even  to  an  interest  in  rumors  of  the  Christian  religion,  which 


OUR  HAWAII  201 

had  found  their  way  from  the  Society  group.  Three  years 
after  his  death,  his  widow,  Kaahumanu,  his  favorite,  a 
remarkable  woman  whose  career  would  make  a  great  ro- 
mance, together  with  her  second  husband,  Kaukualli, 
held  a  grand  midsummer  burning  of  idols  collected  from 
their  hiding  places. 

Kailua  is  the  first  port  into  which  our  boat  has  made 
her  own  way  under  sail.  It  was  an  occasion  of  sober 
excitement,  in  a  moonless  night  lighted  softly  by  great 
stars  that  illumined  the  shifting  cloud  vapors.  The  enor- 
mous bulk  of  the  island  appeared  twice  its  height  against 
the  sparkling  night-blue  sky,  and  a  few  unblinking  lights 
midway  of  the  darkling  mass  hinted  of  mouths  of  caverns 
in  a  savage  mountain. 

When  at  last  the  searchlight  was  manned,  fed  by  the 
five-horse-power  engine  that  had  been  driving  our  blessed 
electric  fans,  we  discovered  the  low-lying,  palm-clustered 
village,  and,  sweeping  the  water  with  the  shaft  of  radiance, 
made  out  a  ghostly  schooner  in  our  own  predicament. 

"Do  you  know  where  you  are?  —  do  you  like  it?" 
Jack  breathed  in  the  almost  oppressive  stillness,  where 
we  sat  in  damp  swimming-suits,  in  which  we  had  spent 
the  afternoon,  occasionally  sluicing  each  other  with  canvas 
bucketfuls  of  water  from  overside.  Ah,  did  I  like  it!  I 
sensed  with  him  all  the  wordless  glamour  of  the  tropic  night ; 
floating  into  a  strange  haven  known  of  old  to  discoverer 
and  Spanish  pirate,  the  land  a  looming  shadow  of  mystery ; 
our  masts  swaying  gently  among  bright  stars  so  low  one 
thought  to  hear  them  humming  through  space,  and  no 
sound  but  the  tripping  of  wavelets  along  our  imperceptibly 
moving  sides,  and  a  dull  boom  of  breakers  too  far  off  the 
port  bow.  As  we  drew  closer  in  the  redolent  gloom  dimly 
could  be  seen  melting  columns  and  spires  of  white,  shot  up 
by  the  surf  as  it  dashed  against  the  rugged  lava  shore  line. 

Little  speech  was  heard  —  the  captain  alert,  anxious, 
the  searchlight  playing  incessantly  to  the  throbbing  of  the 


202  OUR  HAWAII 

little  engine,  anchor  ready  to  let  go  at  instant's  notice. 
Suddenly  the  voice  of  Nelson,  who  handled  the  lead-line, 
rang  out  sharply  its  first  sounding,  and  continued  indicating 
the  lessening  depth  as  we  slid  shoreward  in  a  fan  of  gentle 
wind,  until  "Twelve!"  brought  "Let  her  go!"  from  the 
skipper.  Followed  the  welcome  grind  of  chain  through  the 
hawse  pipe,  and  the  yacht  swung  to  her  cable  as  the  fluke  laid 
hold  of  bottom,  the  breakers  now  crashing  fairly  close  as  tern ; 
and  we  lay  at  anchor  in  a  dozen  fathoms  in  Kailua  Bay,  all 
tension  relaxed,  half-wondering  how  we  had  got  there. 

Hardly  could  we  compose  ourselves  to  sleep,  for  curiosity 
to  see  our  first  unaided  landfall  in  broad  daylight.  And 
it  was  not  disappointing,  but  quite  the  tropic  picture  we 
had  imagined,  simmering  in  dazzling  morning  sunlight. 
One  could  not  but  vision  historical  scenes  that  had  been 
enacted  in  the  placid  open  bay,  say  when  the  French 
discovery-ship  Uranie  put  in,  the  year  of  Kamehameha's 
death,  and  was  received  by  a  white  man,  Governor  Adams, 
"Kuakine";  and,  later,  the  brig  Thaddeus,  long  months 
from  Boston  Town  with  her  pioneer  missionaries,  greeted 
by  the  welcome  tidings  that  the  tabus  were  abolished, 
temples  and  fanes  destroyed,  and  that  peace  reigned  under 
Kamehameha  the  Second,  Liholiho,  who,  among  other 
radical  acts,  had  broken  the  age-long  tabu  and  sat  down 
to  meat  with  his  womenkind. 

Among  these  missionaries  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thurston, 
grandparents  of  our  Kakina.  All  must  have  suffered 
outlandish  inconveniences,  to  say  the  least,  in  this  primi- 
tive environment ;  and  I  am  minded  of  having  read  how, 
on  one  occasion,  those  early  Thurstons  made  a  passage 
from  Kailua  to  Lahaina  in  a  very  small  brig  that  hardly 
furnished  standing  room  for  its  four  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  passengers  and  numerous  live  stock  —  which  was  not 
considered  an  unusual  overcrowding. 

A  good  five-mile  pull  it  is  from  the  village  to  the  "Doctor- 
age,"  through  quaint  Kailua,  past  Hackf eld's  old  store, 


OUR  HAWAII  203 

and  the  formal  little  white  Palace  where,  Dr.  Goodhue's 
young  son  Marion  told  us,  Prince  Kalanianaole  and  his 
princess  are  staying ;  on,  higher  and  higher,  across  a  slop- 
ing desert  of  cactus  blooming  white  and  red  and  yellow, 
and  laden  with  juicy-sweet  " prickly  pears,"  in  which, 
with  care  for  the  prickles,  we  quenched  a  continuous  thirst 
in  the  sapping  noonday  heat. 

Shortly  after  quitting  Kailua  in  the  Goodhue  surrey, 
Marion  pointed  out  a  tumble-down  frame  dwelling,  the 
home  of  the  original  Thurstons,  which  is  now  almost  dis- 
integrated by  termites,  borers,  inaccurately  termed  "white 
ants,"  whose  undermining  must  ceaselessly  be  fought  in  the 
Islands.  This  house  is  a  dreamfully  pathetic  reminder  of 
those  long-dead  men  and  women  who  voyaged  so  coura- 
geously to  a  far  land  where,  oh,  savage  association !  a 
conch  shell  was  the  bell  for  the  afternoon  session  of  school. 
Their  special  interest  in  the  Hawaiian  people  had  been 
awakened  in  the  New  England  missionaries  by  the  acquaint- 
ance of  several  kanaka  sailors  brought  to  New  Haven  by 
Captain  Brintnall  in  1809,  more  especially  one  Opukahaia, 
whom  they  dubbed  Obookiah.  In  1817  the  "Foreign  Mis- 
sion School"  was  instituted  at  Cornwall,  Connecticut,  for 
heathen  youth,  and  five  Sandwich  Islanders  were  among 
the  first  pupils.  Obookiah  died  the  following  year,  but 
three  of  his  countrymen  embarked  with  the  missionaries  in 
1819,  in  the  brig  Thaddeus,  Captain  Blanchard. 

Presently  we  began  to  enjoy  a  cooler  altitude,  in  which 
the  vegetation  changed  to  a  sort  of  tropical  orchard  —  a 
wilderness  of  avocado,  kukui,  guava,  and  breadfruit  trees 
burdened  with  their  shining  knobby  globes  of  emerald, 
like  those  of  Aladdin's  jeweled  forest.  And  coffee  —  Kona 
coffee ;  spreading  miles  of  glossy,  green  shrubbery  sprinkled 
with  its  red,  sweet  berry  inclosing  the  blessed  bean. 

At  1000  feet  elevation  we  struck  a  variously  level  winding 
highway  which  we  pursued  to  the  post  office  of  Holualoa, 
and  from  which  we  turned  down  an  intricate  lane  between 


204  OUR  HAWAII 

stone  walls  overhung  with  blossomy  trees,  that  with 
sudden  twist  delivered  us  into  an  unguessed  verdant  shelf 
of  the  long  seaward  lava  slope.  Here  the  Goodhues  live  and 
work  and  raise  their  young  family  of  two  in  this  matchless 
equable  climate.  Miss  Genevieve  Lynch,  a  niece  of  the 
Doctor,  presides  over  the  education  of  the  children. 

Dr.  Goodhue's  Emersonian  head  and  face  recall  old  New 
England  portraits,  with  dark-blue  eyes  contrasting  to  a 
clear  ivory  complexion;  and  his  wife,  a  talented  woman 
who  has  studied  art  in  the  eastern  cities,  welcomed  us  twain 
as  if  we  had  been  long-expected  kinfolk. 

Jack  has  located  a  shady  corner  for  his  work,  out  of  range 
of  the  distracting  landscape,  and  is  swinging  along  on  that 
autobiographical  novel  he  has  so  long  contemplated.  The 
hero  is  "  Martin  Eden,"  and  the  author  cannot  make  up 
his  mind  whether  to  use  the  euphonious  name  for  title,  or 
call  the  book  "  Success." 

"Now,  this  is  what  I  call  a  white-man's  climate,"  he 
pronounces  with  satisfaction.  "Few  of  us  Anglo-Saxons 
are  so  made  as  to  thrive  in  tropic  spots  like  Kailua  yonder," 
indicating  the  far-distant  and  just-visible  thumb-sketch 
of  that  storied  hamlet,  "no  matter  how  beautiful  they 
may  be  to  the  eye." 

Dr.  Goodhue  agrees  to  this ;  but  Jack  will  not  follow 
him  in  the  contention  that,  under  the  Hawaiian  sun, 
even  in  this  semi-temperate  climate,  said  Anglo-Saxon 
should  rest  more  and  work  less  feverishly  than  do  we.  "I 
wish  you'd  heed  what  I  am  advising  you,"  almost  wist- 
fully the  good  Doctor  urges.  "You'll  last  longer  under  the 
equator  and  have  a  better  time  on  your  voyage.  —  If 
I  did  not  have  such  sweet  responsibilities,"  he  smiled  upon 
his  wife  and  Marion  and  Dorothy,  "I'd  beg  the  chance  to 
go  along  as  ship's  physician!  .  .  .  And  as  for  myself," 
he  added,  "I  have  to  work  too  hard  —  largely  prescribing 
for  people  like  you  and  myself,  who  have  not  heeded  my 
own  warnings. " 


OUR  HAWAII  205 

There  is  small  need  for  residents  of  Kona  to  plan  special 
entertainment  for  guests,  provided  those  guests  have  eyes 
to  see.  First,  one's  imagination  is  set  in  motion  by  this 
unheard-of  sloping  vastness  of  lava  so  ancient  that  it  has 
become  rich  soil  covered,  in  the  higher  reaches,  with  swaths 
of  bright  sugar  cane  and  coffee,  ferns  and  trees.  Below 
this  belt  of  vegetation,  barren  seamy  lava  stretches  to  the 
coast  line,  lost  in  distance  to  right  and  left,  all  its  minia- 
ture palm-feathered  bays  marked  by  a  restless  edge  of 
pearly  surf  in  dazzling  contrast  to  the  vivid  turquoise  water 
inshore.  Off  to  the  south,  the  last  indentation  to  be  seen 
is  historic  Kealakekua  Bay,  where  Captain  Cook  paid 
with  his  life  for  stupid  mishandling  of  a  people  proud  be- 
yond his  comprehension  of  the  Polynesian  race.  We  have 
never  seen  anything  like  this  azure  hemisphere  of  sea  and 
sky.  For  there  is  no  horizon  seen  from  the  Kona  Coast. 
The  water  lies  motionless  as  the  sky  —  a  frosted  blue-crystal 
level,  no  longer  a  "  pathless,  trackless  ocean,"  for  over  its 
limitless  surface  run  serpentine  paths,  coiling  and  inter- 
mingling as  in  an  inconceivable  breadth  of  watered  silk. 
Ocean  and  sky  are  wedded  by  cloud  masses  that  rear  celes- 
tial castles  in  the  blue  ether,  which  in  turn  are  reflected 
in  the  "  windless,  glassy  floor  " ;  and  the  atmosphere  and 
vaporous  consummation  is  best  described  as  a  blue  flush. 
The  very  air  is  blue. 

We  can  just  make  out  our  small  house-upon-the-sea,  tiny 
pearl  upon  lapis  lazuli,  beyond  the  slender,  white  spire  of 
Kailua's  church.  And  fair  little  Dorothy,  her  eyes  the 
all-prevalent  azure,  slips  white-f rocked  and  cool  to  our  side 
and  lisps  her  father's  child-verse : 

"There  Jack  London's  coming,  see ! 

In  a  little  white-speck  boat ; 
He  will  wave  his  hands  to  me, 
Then  he'll  float  and  float  and  float; 
So  he  said  last  time  he  wrote  — 
He  is  such  a  man  of  note ! " 


206  OUR  HAWAII 

HOLUALOA,  Thursday,  August  22,  1907. 

This  forenoon  we  spent  in  the  manner  so  disapproved 
by  our  wise  host,  catching  up  with  work  that  had  fallen 
behind  in  those  blistering  four  days  from  Honolulu.  Our 
industry  was  rewarded  by  a  tonic  horseback  trip  with  the 
Doctor  and  Marion,  and  Mr.  Conant,  manager  of  a  large 
sugar  plantation. 

For  some  three  miles  we  loped  or  trotted  south  along  the 
fine  road  skirting  this  mighty  slope  at  varying  altitudes 
of  1000  to  1500  feet.  On  our  saddles  were  tied  rain- 
coats, for  smart,  air-clearing  rains  are  frequent  of  an 
afternoon,  rilling  one's  nostrils  with  the  smell  of  the  good 
red  earth. 

"Oh,  look  — look!  Mate!  Look  at  your  yacht!" 
Jack  suddenly  cried ;  and  sure  enough,  there  was  she,  the 
"white-speck  boat,"  in  a  whisper  of  wind  crawling  out 
across  the  level  blue  carpet  of  the  open  roadstead,  growing 
dimmer  and  dimmer  in  the  Blue  Flush,  bound  for  Hilo, 
our  port  of  departure  for  the  Marquesas. 

We  turned  down  a  trail  through  guava  and  lantana  shrub- 
bery sparkling  from  the  latest  shower.  Lantana,  one  of  the 
most  considerable  vegetable  pests  of  the  Islands,  a  native  of 
South  America,  was  introduced  in  1858  as  an  ornamental 
garden  flower,  and  a  pretty  shrub  it  is,  with  small,  velvet 
blossoms  of  richest  tones  of  orange,  yellow,  and  rose.  But 
the  friendly  mynah  bird  found  its  aromatic  blue-black 
berries  delicious  fodder,  and  the  rest  is  plain:  he  spread 
the  prolific  plant  over  thousands  of  acres  of  valuable  pas- 
ture-land, that  became  choked  with  the  rank  growth, 
and  even  in  the  lower  forests  it  grew  several  feet  in  height, 
forming  almost  impenetrable  jungle,  of  great  beauty  except 
to  the  landowner.  The  experiment  station  was  kept  busy 
searching  for  its  natural  enemy,  and  of  several  discovered, 
the  Lantana  Seed-Fly  proved  the  most  destructive ;  so  that 
by  now,  large  tracts  of  lantana  in  the  islands  present  an 


OUR  HAWAII  207 

appearance  of  having  been  burned,  so  thoroughly  has  the 
seed-fly  done  its  work. 

Marion  bestrode  a  ridiculous  dun  ass,  a  family  pet  that 
for  the  most  part  wreaked  its  own  determined  will  upon 
its  young  rider,  especially  when  its  large  braying,  "a  sound 
as  of  a  dry  pump  being  'fetched'  by  water  and  suction," 
elicited  like  responses  from  the  "bush"  where  these  Kona 
Nightingales,  as  they  are  known  throughout  the  Islands, 
breed  unchecked  and  are  yours  for  the  catching.  These, 
if  not  a  favorite,  are  an  inexpensive  and  popular  means  of 
travel  among  the  poorer  natives  and  the  long-legged  pokes 
(Chinese)  on  the  roads  of  the  District. 

Winning  through  the  belt  of  shrubbery,  we  traversed 
a  desert  of  decomposed  lava,  our  path  edged  pastorally 
with  wild  flowers,  among  them  the  tiny  dark-blue  ones  of  the 
indigo  plant.  Across  and  down  this  stretch  undulates  the 
ruin  of  the  prehistoric  holualoa  —  a  causeway  built  fifty 
feet  wide  of  irregular  lava  blocks,  flanked  either  side  by 
massive,  low  walls  of  lava  masonry  several  feet  thick. 
This  amazing  slide  extends  from  water's  edge  two  or  three 
miles  up-mountain,  and  its  origin,  like  the  ambitious  fish 
ponds,  is  lost  in  the  fogs  of  antiquity.  Its  probable  use 
was  for  the  ancient  game  of  holua  —  coasting  on  a  few- 
inches-wide  sledge  —  papa  holua  —  with  runners  over  a 
dozen  feet  long  and  several  inches  deep,  fashioned  of  pol- 
ished wood,  hard  as  iron,  curving  upward  in  front,  and 
fastened  together  by  ten  or  more  crosspieces.  The  rider, 
with  one  hand  grasping  the  sledge  near  the  center,  ran  a 
few  yards  for  headway,  then  leaped  upon  it  and  launched 
headforemost  downhill.  Ordinarily,  a  smooth  track  of  dry 
pili  grass  was  prepared  on  some  long  descent  that  ended  in 
a  plain ;  but  this  holua/oa  (loa  connotes  great),  is  supposed 
to  have  been  sacred  to  high  and  mighty  chiefdom,  whose 
papa  holuas  were  constructed  with  canoe-bottoms.  Picture 
a  grand  chief  of  chiefs,  and  his  court  of  magnificent  war- 
riors, alii,  springing  gloriously  upon  their  carved  and  painted 


208  OUR  HAWAII 

sledges,  flashing  with  ever  increasing  flight  adown  this  regal 
course  until,  at  the  crusty  edge  of  the  solid  world,  they 
breasted  the  surf  of  ocean ! 

The  ancients  of  Hawaii  were  keen  sportsmen  —  and 
gamblers.  One  historian  asserts  that  many  of  their  games 
were  resorted  to  largely  for  the  betting,  which  was  pursued 
by  both  sexes,  and  often  culminated  in  impromptu  pitched 
battles.  Jack,  who  loves  a  well-matched  prizefight,  which  he 
calls  a  "white-man's  game"  (he  repeatedly  swears  that  if  he 
could  choose  he  would  rather  be  world's  champion  boxer 
than  the  greatest  of  writers),  has  had  his  admiration  of  the 
Hawaiians  augmented  by  learning  that  boxing,  moko-moko, 
regulated  by  umpires  who  rigidly  enforced  strict  rules,  was 
the  favorite  national  sport,  often  attended  by  spectators 
numbering  as  high  as  ten  thousand. 

Then  there  was  wrestling,  hakoko,  and  the  popular 
kukini,  foot-racing.  Disk-throwing,  maike,  was  played 
with  a  highly  polished  stone  disk,  ulu,  three  or  four  inches 
in  diameter,  slightly  convex  from  edge  to  center,  on  a 
track  half  a  mile  long  and  three  feet  broad.  The  game 
was  either  to  send  the  stone  between  two  upright  sticks 
fixed  but  a  few  inches  apart  at  a  distance  of  thirty  or  forty 
yards,  or  to  see  which  side  could  bowl  it  the  greater  length. 
The  champions  would  sometimes  succeed  in  bowling  upward 
of  a  hundred  rods. 

They  also  knew  a  complicated  game  of  checkers,  played 
with  black  and  white  pebbles  upon  a  board  marked  with 
numerous  squares.  And  oh,  joy  —  these  irrepressible 
sports  raised  cocks  for  fighting,  and  wagered  hotly  around 
the  ringside !  Jack  declares  Mr.  Ford  will  have  to  resur- 
rect some  of  the  games,  as  he  has  done  with  surf-boarding, 
not  only  amongst  the  natives,  but  for  the  delectation  of 
haole  residents  and  visitors. 

This  monster  scenic  railway  of  Polynesian  forefathers 
lies  in  flowing  undulations  like  our  modern  ones,  showing 
the  engineers  to  have  been  men  of  calculation.  One  old 


OUR  HAWAII  209 

Hawaiian  told  us  the  pretty  story  that  the  terrific  toil  of 
building  the  holualoa  was  performed  by  amorous  youths 
contesting  for  a  single  look  at  the  loveliness  of  a  favorite 
of  the  moi,  king. 

Despite  the  fact  that  wahines  existed  under  severe 
and  sometimes  heartless  tabus  and  punishments  for  the 
infringement  thereof,  they  played  the  usual  important 
role  of  femininity  among  superior  races.  They  were  ex- 
empt from  sacrifice ;  and  the  rank  of  children  was  inherited 
chiefly  from  the  maternal  parents.  War  canoes  were 
named  after  the  loved  one  of  the  chiefs,  as  evidenced  by 
Kamehameha,  whose  sentiment  for  Kaahumanu  caused 
him  to  rename  for  her  the  brig  Forester,  bought  from 
Captain  Piggott  in  exchange  for  sandalwood.  And  after 
Kamehameha  II,  Liholiho,  had  removed  the  ban  of  Adam- 
less  feasting,  woman's  further  emancipation  went  on  apace. 
When,  in  the  past  century,  the  "people"  were  called  by 
their  white  government  to  vote,  there  was  no  murmur 
from  the  husbands,  fathers,  and  brothers,  if  report  be  true, 
at  having  their  womenkind  accompany  them  to  the  polls 
to  cast  their  own  ballot.  The  haole  law-makers,  however, 
not  ripe  to  tolerate  woman  suffrage,  and  equally  unwilling 
to  cause  hurt,  got  around  the  embarrassing  difficulty  by 
merely  neglecting  to  count  the  feminine  names ! 1 

The  "free  life  of  the  savage"  is  a  myth,  so  far  as  concerns 
the  old  Hawaiians.  Almost  every  act  was  accompanied 
by  prayer  and  offering  to  the  tutelar  deities.  Every  vo- 
cation had  its  patron  gods,  who  must  be  propitiated,  and 
innumerable  omens  were  observed.  A  fisherman  could 
not  use  his  new  net  without  sacrifice  to  his  patron  fane, 
more  especially  the  shark-god.  A  professional  diviner, 

1  In  a  late  Pacific  Commercial  Advertiser,  I  notice  the  following  cable  : 

"WASHINGTON,  August  13,  1917: 

Favorable  report  was  made  to  the  Senate  to-day  on  the  bill  to  empower 
the  Hawaiian  Legislature  to  extend  suffrage  to  women  and  submit  the 
question  to  voters  of  the  territory." 
p 


210  OUR  HAWAII 

kilo  kilo,  had  to  be  called  in  for  advice  as  to  the  position 
of  a  house  to  be  erected ;  and  no  tree  must  stand  directly 
before  the  door  for  some  distance,  lest  bad  luck  be  the 
portion  of  the  householder.  Canoe-building  was  a  cere- 
monial of  the  strictest  sort ;  while,  most  important  of  all, 
the  birth  of  a  male  child  was  attended  with  offerings  to  the 
idols,  with  complicated  services. 

Again  am  I  lost  in  the  labyrinth  of  Hawaii's  tempting 
history,  for  between  the  lines  one  may  find  the  utmost 
romance,  in  abundance  pressed  down  and  burgeoning. 

The  Kona  coast  is  said  to  be  as  primitive  in  its  social 
status  as  anywhere  in  Hawaii  to-day,  but  we  saw  none 
but  wooden  dwellings,  tucked  in  the  foliage  of  the  high 
bank  behind  Keauhou's  miniature  crescent  beach  with  its 
rippling  miniature  surf  —  a  mere  nick  in  the  white  coast- 
line, where  small  steamers  call  at  a  little  roofed  pier.  In 
a  small  lot,  inclosed  by  a  low  stone  wall,  gravely  we  were 
shown  by  the  natives  a  large  sloping  rock,  upon  which,  we 
were  informed,  Kamehameha  V,  grandson  of  the  Great 
Ancestor,  was  born.  Queen  Liliuokalani  has  lately  caused 
the  wall  to  be  built  around  the  sacred  birthplace. 

HOLUALOA,  Friday,  August  23,  1907. 

This  perfect  day,  in  high  balmy  coolness,  found  us 
driving  twenty  miles  over  the  shower-laid  pavement  of 
the  highway.  Once  more  we  glimpsed  the  Snark,  still 
holding  to  westward  in  order  to  lay  her  proper  slant  for  the 
coastwise  course  —  by  now  a  mere  flick  of  white  or  silver 
or  shadow  in  the  shifting  light,  sometimes  entirely  eluding 
sight  in  the  cloud-dimming  blue  mirror. 

The  road  swings  along  through  forest  of  lehua  and  tree- 
ferns,  the  larger  koa  flourishing  higher  on  the  mountain; 
and  on  some  of  the  timbered  hillsides  Jack  and  I  ex- 
claimed over  the  likeness  to  our  home  woods. 

At  intervals,  up  little  trails  branching  from  the  road, 


OUR  HAWAII  211 

poi-flags  fluttered  appetizingly  in  the  breeze  —  a  white 
cloth  on  a  stick  being  advertisement  of  this  staple  for 
sale.  I  longed  to  follow  these  crooked  pathways  for  the 
sake  of  a  peep  at  the  native  folk  and  their  doubtlessly  primi- 
tive huts. 

"I  wish  I  had  miles  of  these  stone  walls  on  my  ranch," 
quoth  Jack,  on  the  broad  top  of  one  of  which  he  sat,  munch- 
ing a  sandwich  in  the  kukui  shade.  Everywhere  one  sees 
examples  of  this  splendid  rock-fencing,  built  by  the  hands 
of  bygone  common  people  to  separate  the  lands  of  the 
aristocracy. 

The  return  twenty  miles  were  covered  in  a  heavy  rain 
that  the  side-curtains  could  not  entirely  exclude,  and  we 
stopped  but  once  —  to  make  a  call  upon  a  neighbor,  a 
hale  and  masterful  man  of  eighty-odd  years,  whose  fourth 
wife,  in  her  early  twenties,  is  nursing  their  two-months- 
old  babe.  "Gee!"  Jack  said  in  an  awed  tone  as  we 
resumed  our  way  under  a  sunset-breaking  sky,  "the 
possibilities  of  this  high  Kona  climate  are  almost  appalling ! 
This  is  certainly  the  place  to  spend  one's  declining  years." 
And  the  Doctor  added,  "They  say  in  this  district  that 
people  never  die.  They  simple  dry  up  and  float  away 
in  the  wind!" 

Jack's  admiration  for  the  holoku  remains  unabated ; 
and  so,  as  have  many  Americans,  I  have  quite  adopted  it 
for  housewear  as  the  most  logically  beautiful  toilette  in 
this  easy-going  latitude.  Callers  arrive :  I  am  bending 
over  the  typewriter,  wrapped  in  a  kimono.  In  a  trice, 
if  my  husband  has  not  started  the  back-buttons  wrong, 
I  am  completely  gowned  in  a  robe  of  fine  muslin  and  lace, 
with  ruffled  train,  ready  for  any  domestic  social  emergency. 

HOLUALOA,  Saturday,  August  24,  1907. 

To  Keauhou  again  we  came  this  lovely  evening,  guests 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomas  White  of  Kona.  After  a 


2i2  OUR  HAWAII 

mad  dash,  neck  and  neck,  on  the  bunched  and  flying 
horses,  with  heavy  warm  rain  beating  in  our  hot  faces,  Guy 
Maydwell,  who  with  his  charming  French  wife,  " Brownie," 
are  old  acquaintances,  led  the  riot  makai  on  the  wettest, 
slipperiest,  muddiest  trail  he  knew  through  the  slapping 
wet  lantana,  and  we  arrived  at  the  jewel  of  a  bay  drenched 
to  the  skin,  our  feet  squashing  unctuously  in  our  boots. 

Red  calico  muumuus  had  been  brought  for  us  malihini 
haoles,  that  we  might  be  entirely  Hawaiian  in  the  water, 
and  at  last  I  was  able  to  demonstrate  to  my  own  skepticism 
that  it  is  more  than  possible  to  keep  from  drowning  in  a 
flowing  robe.  A  bevy  of  brown  water-babies  were  already 
bobbing  blissfully  in  the  sunset-rosy  flood  that  was  warm 
as  new  milk. 

In  the  water  I  was  seized  with  almost  a  panic  when  a 
distressful  stinging  sensation  began  spreading  over  my  body 
like  flame.  Simultaneously,  Genevieve  cried  out,  and  others 
began  to  make  for  the  beach  with  little  shrieks  of  pain  and 
laughter.  The  brown  mer-babies  tried  with  wry,  half-smiling 
faces  to  explain,  but  it  took  an  older  native  to  make  plain 
that  in  the  twilight  we  had  blundered  into  a  squadron  of  Por- 
tuguese men  of  war,  whose  poisonous  filaments  are  thrown 
out  somewhat  as  spiders  cast  their  webs  over  victims.  A 
man  of  war  has  been  known  to  lower  these  filaments  many 
feet,  say  into  a  shoal  of  sardines,  whereupon  the  sardines 
become  paralyzed  from  the  poison  at  the  instant  of  con- 
tact and  the  enemy  is  able  to  hoist  them  to  the  surface. 
No  wonder  our  tender  skins  felt  the  irritation.  Never 
again  shall  I  be  able  to  look  upon  the  fairy  fleets  of  Lilli- 
putian blue  ships  with  quite  the  same  unalloyed  pleasure 
in  their  pretty  harmlessness. 

Robust  appetites  we  brought  to  Mrs.  White's  luau, 
spread  on  the  little  wharf.  Although  we  did  sit  on  the 
floor,  in  approved  native  posture,  it  was  a  trifle  disap- 
pointing to  note  the  forks,  spoons,  and  knives,  together 
with  many  haole  dishes.  Jack  considerately  forestalled 


OUR  HAWAII  213 

any  comment  from  me  by  whispering  "They  do  not  know 
us  well  enough  to  realize  that  we  would  appreciate  the 
strictly  Hawaiian  customs.'' 

Some  of  the  Keauhou  folk  sat  with  us,  but  were  extremely 
shy,  for  few  strangers  find  their  way  to  the  little  village  by 
the  sea ;  and  at  the  shore  end  of  the  pier  a  group  of  brown 
singers  stared  at  us  out  of  their  beautiful  eyes  while  their 
voices  blended  "with  true  consent"  in  older  melodies  than 
any  we  had  heard. 

Jack  and  I  rode  home  in  the  dim  misty  moonlight,  be- 
holding the  land  and  sea  in  a  wondrous  new  aspect,  the  Blue 
Flush  all  turned  to  iridescent  pearl  and  the  fairy  silver  sea 
streaked  with  dull  gold  by  a  low-hanging  moon.  In  the 
stillness  our  hoofs  rang  sharply  on  the  lava  steep,  or  a  clash 
of  palm  swords  in  a  vagrant  puff  of  wind  startled  the 
horses  to  the  side.  It  was  a  wild  ride,  up  into  the  chiller 
air  strata  and  along  the  clattering  highway,  and  we  en- 
joyed imagining  ourselves  half -winged  creatures  in  a  dream. 

HOLUALOA,  Sunday,  August  25,  1907. 

Jack  rose  betimes  and  accomplished  his  thousand  words 
on  the  novel,  the  while  I  hurried  to  copy  three  chapters 
already  written.  The  surrey  was  ready  to  start  upon 
the  last  stroke  of  the  charmed  ink-pencil,  and  with  an  eager 
"I'll  be  with  you  in  a  minute!"  Jack  flashed  into  the 
house  for  a  pack  of  "Imperiales"  and  a  box  of  matches, 
and  out  again  to  join  us  for  the  long-desired  trip  to  Kea- 
lakekua  Bay. 

Farther  than  any  day  yet  we  bowled  along  the  blithesome 
highroad,  and  then  dropped  into  the  increasing  heat  of 
the  shimmering  tropic  levels,  into  Napoopoo  village  under 
its  fruitful  palms  on  the  beach.  Mr.  Leslie,  a  friend 
of  the  Goodhues,  had  us  into  his  pleasant  home  to  cool 
off  from  the  hot  drive,  and  led  to  where  two  canoes  lay 
ready  at  the  landing  to  paddle  us  over  the  storied  waters 


214  OUR  HAWAII 

to  the  Cook  Monument.  Weather-grayed  little  outriggers 
they  were,  one  of  them,  propelled  by  an  astonishing 
person,  a  full-blooded  Hawaiian  albino  —  curious  paradox 
of  a  white  man  who  was  not  a  white  man. 

Skimming  the  lustrous,  still  water  beyond  the  inshore 
breakers,  on  our  way  to  the  point  of  land,  Kaawaloa, 
where  stands  the  white  monument  pure  and  silent  in  the 
green  gloom  of  trees,  our  eyes  roved  the  palm-feathered, 
surf-wreathed  shore  and  beetling  cliffs  honeycombed  with 
tombs  where  old  canoes  still  hold  tapa-swathed  bones  of 
bygone  inhabitants.  Some  of  these,  undoubtedly,  knew 
the  features  of  the  Captain  James  Cook  whom  they  deified 
as  an  incarnation  of  their  secondary  god,  Lono,  previous 
to  slaying  him  for  his  misbehavior  with  a  people  too  decent 
to  countenance  methods  he  had  found  successful  among 
certain  South  Sea  groups. 

And  we  reinvested  the  ideal  environment  with  its  sturdy 
old  whalers  and  picturesque  adventurers'  ships,  and  gar- 
landed dusky  mermaidens  swimming  out  in  laughing  schools 
to  the  strange  white  men  from  an  undreamed  world  be- 
yond the  blue  flush  that  bounded  theirs,  while  again  the 
friendly  natives  made  high  luau  beneath  the  palms  of  the 
waterside.  Our  handsome  boatman  somewhat  shook 
the  mermaid  fantasy  when  he  contributed:  " Aole  —  no; 
no  swim  this  place  ...  I  tell  you  —  planty,  planty 
shark." 

No  shark  could  we  discern ;  only,  in  coral  caverns  deep 
below  the  quaint  outrigger,  burnished  fishes  playing  in 
and  out  like  sunbeams.  We  skimmed  a  jeweled  bowl, 
the  blue  contents  shot  through  with  broad-sides  of  amber 
by  the  afternoon  sun,  and  on  the  surface  shadowy  undula- 
tions —  violet  pools  in  the  azure ;  liquid  sapphire  spilled 
upon  molten  turquoise;  and  all  exquisite  hues  melting 
into  an  opalescent  fusion  of  water  and  air. 

An  arm  of  lava  draws  in  the  harbor  on  the  north,  and 
near  its  end  the  rocky  ruins  of  a  heiau,  undoubtedly  of 


OUR  HAWAII  215 

Lonomakahiki,  where  Captain  Cook  was  worshiped,  lends 
an  appropriately  sacrificial  spell,  which  the  irreverent  and 
loud-voiced  mynah  does  everything  in  his  power  to  dese- 
crate. We  landed  on  the  low  rocks  opposite  the  white 
concrete  monument,  which  stands  midway  of  the  little 
cape.  The  original  memorial  was  a  piece  of  ship's  copper, 
nailed  to  a  coco  palm  near  the  site  of  the  present  im- 
posing shaft,  which  is  inclosed  in  a  military  square  of 
heavy  chain-cable  supported  from  posts  topped  by  cannon- 
balls. 

When  Captain  Cook  was  slain  here,  in  1779,  his  body 
was  borne  to  a  smaller  heiau  above  the  pali,  where  the  same 
night  the  high  priests  performed  their  funeral  rites.  The 
flesh  was  removed  from  the  skeleton,  and  part  of  it  burned, 
while  the  bones  were  cleansed  and  tied  with  red  feathers 
and  deified  in  the  temple  of  Lono.  All  that  the  men  of  his 
ship,  the  Resolution,  could  recover  of  their  commander's 
valorous  meat  was  a  few  pounds  which  had  been  allotted  to 
Kau,  chief  priest  of  Lono,  which  he  and  another  friendly 
priest  secretly  conveyed  to  them  under  cover  of  night. 
Most  of  the  wan  framework,  distributed  among  the  chiefs 
according  to  custom,  was  eventually  restored,  and  com- 
mitted with  military  honors  to  the  deep. 

It  has  been  held  that  the  flesh  of  Captain  Cook  was  de- 
voured, but  this  rumor  has  been  entirely  disproved  by 
the  most  authentic  evidence  from  written  accounts  of 
officers  of  the  Resolution  and  the  Discovery.  What  prob- 
ably gave  rise  to  the  false  impression  of  the  gustatory  pro- 
pensities of  the  Hawaiians  at  that  time  is  the  fact  that 
three  hungry  youngsters,  prowling  about  during  the  dark 
ceremonial,  picked  up  the  heart  and  other  organs  that 
had  been  laid  aside,  and  made  a  hearty  lunch,  taking  them 
for  offal  of  some  sacrificial  animal.  It  is  not  recorded 
whether  or  not  these  gruesome  giblets  were  already  roasted  ! 
The  three  children  lived  to  be  old  men  in  Lahaina.  There 
is  no  proof  that  the  Hawaiians  ever  were  cannibals,  whereas 


2i6  OUR  HAWAII 

there  is  undisputed  evidence  that  in  extremity  many  Cau- 
casians have  eaten  their  fellows. 

Always  a  rebellious  memory  will  be  mine  that  I  al- 
lowed myself  to  be  dissuaded  by  the  Doctor  and  my  hus- 
band from  climbing  the  avalanched  slope  at  the  base  of 
the  pali  in  which  those  canoe-coffined  bones  of  Kealakekua's 
dead  are  shelved.  It  is  even  said  that  Kekupuohe,  wife 
of  Kalaniopuu,  who  was  king  of  Hawaii  at  the  time  of  its 
discovery  by  Captain  Cook,  is  interred  here.  Such  a 
burial  place  is  rare  in  the  Islands,  for  more  frequently 
bones  were  secreted  beyond  discovery,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
mighty  warrior  Kahekili,  who  died  at  Waikiki  less  than 
twenty  years  after  Cook's  passing,  and  whose  white  bones 
were  effectively  hidden  in  some  cave  near  Kaloko  on  the 
North  Kona  coast.  Mine  was  a  perfectly  healthy  yearn- 
ing to  brave  the  face  of  the  cliff  and  peer  into  sunless 
cobwebby  recesses  to  see  what  I  could  see.  I  was  ready 
to  go  even  contrary  to  the  physician's  earnest  warning 
about  the  exhausting  heat  on  that  bare  rock;  but  when 
Jack's  heedful  eyes  said  "Please"  I  obeyed  the  Doctor's 
advice. 

Once  back  on  the  lava  masonry  of  the  steamboat  land- 
ing at  Napoopoo,  in  the  shade  we  ate  luncheon,  dangling 
our  happy  heels  overside;  after  which  Mr.  Leslie  carried 
us  off  again  to  his  house,  where  he  showed  us  the  original 
Cook  " monument,"  the  famous  slab  of  greenish,  sea-worn 
copper,  bearing  the  old  inscription.  A  man  of  deep  con- 
tent is  the  wealthy  Mr.  Leslie,  who  declares  that  he  pre- 
fers life  in  this  dreamy  Polynesian  village,  with  his  tran- 
quil-sweet part-Hawaiian  wife,  to  any  place  on  earth. 
Perhaps  his  philosophy  of  happiness  is  somewhat  like 
that  of  our  Jack,  who  always  comes  back  to  this : 

"A  man  can  sleep  in  but  one  bed  at  a  time ;  and  he  can 
eat  but  one  meal  at  a  time.  The  same  with  cigarettes, 
drink,  everything.  And,  best  of  all,  he  can  only  love  one 
woman  at  a  time  ...  a  long  time,  if  he  is  lucky." 


OUR  HAWAII  217 

HOLUALOA,  Monday,  August  26,   1907. 

Another  afternoon  in  the  saddle,  this  time  bound  for 
the  timber  line  of  the  greater  forests  on  Hualalai.  Our 
rendezvous  was  at  the  Whites'  home,  a  delightfully  old- 
fashioned  cottage  that  is  largely  lanai.  The  New  England 
parlor,  with  its  upholstered  chairs,  piano,  and  little  stands, 
is  enriched  by  rare  emblems  of  Mrs.  White's  noble  Hawaiian 
ancestors,  such  as  kahilis,  feather-leis,  and  fans ;  and  upon 
piano  and  walls  are  portraits  and  photographs  of  Islands 
royalty.  Princess  Kaiulani's  wonderfully  fine,  wistful 
face  is  everywhere,  always  the  beloved  child  among  her 
people. 

Mr.  White,  debonair  and  gay,  on  a  nimble  cattle  pony, 
led  up  a  guava-wooded  trail  that  leads  to  a  fair  free  range 
of  upland,  where  we  could  safely  give  rein  to  the  impatient 
horses,  as  on  the  Haleakala  pasture-lands.  Higher  still, 
near  the  edge  of  the  woods  we  rounded  in  with  a  flourish 
at  a  picturesque  inclosure  containing  an  old,  old  frame 
house,  or  connected  group  of  houses  of  various  periods. 
Here  live  Mrs.  Roy,  Mrs.  White's  part-Hawaiian  mother 
of  chiefly  lineage,  with  another  daughter  and  her  husband, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  A.  S.  Wall. 

Never  was  ranch  house  so  quaintly  beautiful.  The 
garden  is  terraced  shallowly,  its  grassy  divisions  hedged 
with  flowering  hibiscus,  white  and  blush  and  rose,  and 
crimson  flame,  and  all  about  the  rambling  structure,  bounded 
castle-like  with  a  great  wall  of  lofty  eucalyptus,  grows  a 
tended  riot  of  plants  —  red  amaryllis,  and  glooms  of  helio- 
trope; young  bananas,  their  long  leaves  like  striped  rib- 
bons; tree-ferns  in  the  deep,  short-clipped  sod;  a  sober 
cypress  or  two;  tawny  lilies,  with  splashes  of  blood  in 
their  hearts ;  a  merry  blow  of  Shirley  poppies,  white  and 
crinkly  and  scarlet-edged  like  bonbons,  and  double  poppies 
of  white  and  mauve  and  twilight-purple;  steep  gables  of 
the  dwelling  smothered  under  climbing  roses;  and  rarest 


2i8  OUR  HAWAII 

roses  blooming  about  the  steps;  flagged  walks  bordered 
with  violets  white  and  blue,  filling  the  air  with  sweet. 

And  begonias  amazingly  everywhere.  Begonias  big, 
begonias  little ;  begonias  in  sedate  rows,  pink  and  white ; 
begonias  in  groups,  and  singly ;  begonias  standing  a  dozen 
feet  tall  swaying  like  reeds  in  the  wind ;  and  the  very  en- 
trance to  the  charmed  garden  is  through  a  gateway  of  withy 
begonias,  afire  like  lanterns  dripping,  carmine,  wrist- thick 
and  twenty  feet  in  length,  bent  and  bound  into  a  triumphal 
arch  of  welcome.  What  had  seemed  the  enormity  of  the 
Molokai  begonias  receded  before  these  that  were  twice 
their  height  and  girth.  And  speaking  of  Molokai  reminds 
me  that  a  guest  at  the  Whites  to-day  is  a  relative  of  the 
Myers  family  —  a  magnificent  woman,  high-featured,  high- 
breasted,  with  the  form  and  presence  of  a  goddess  and 
the  indefinable  Hawaiian  hauteur  that  dissolves  before  a 
smile. 

The  old  house  seems  made  of  crannied  nooks,  and  con- 
tains curious  and  antique  furnishings  that  fared  across 
the  Plains  or  around  Cape  Horn;  little  steps  up,  little 
steps  down,  from  room  to  room ;  or  rooms  joined  by  flagged 
pavement  drifted  with  flowers. 

Later,  continuing  up  Hualalai,  we  edged  along  lehua 
woods  that  would  make  a  lumberman  dream  of  untold 
wealth  of  sawmills;  and  I  for  one  yearned  toward  the 
forest  primeval  of  koa  above,  which  we  had  not  time  to 
penetrate.  Once  this  big  mountain  was  the  property  of 
the  Princess  Ruta  Keelikolani,  granddaughter  of  Kame- 
hameha. 

"But  remember,  always/'  Jack  comforted  me;  "we 
must,  according  to  Ford's  practice,  leave  something  unseen 
and  undone,  to  bring  us  back." 

Native  cowboys,  with  shining  eyes  and  teeth,  and 
gay  neckerchiefs,  dashed  about  the  pasture,  working 
among  the  cattle.  Upon  the  backs  of  detached  rumi- 
nating cows  sat  the  ubiquitous  and  impudent  mynah  birds, 


OUR  HAWAII  219 

devouring  pestiferous  horn-flies.  And  we  malihinis  were 
amused  and  edified  by  the  sworn  statements  of  the  men  of 
our  party,  that  the  scraggly  tails  of  the  Kona  horses,  which 
had  aroused  our  polite  curiosity,  are  shaped  by  hungry 
calves  patiently  chewing  this  patently  questionable  fodder 
with  scant  protests  from  the  larger  beasts. 

One  feature  of  great  human  interest  on  this  ranch  is  a 
remarkable  wall,  well-built  of  large  stones,  four  feet  high, 
and  more  than  broad  enough  to  accommodate  an  auto- 
mobile. It  rose  in  a  single  day,  by  edict  of  Kamehameha, 
to  inclose  four  hundred  acres  of  choice  cattle  land.  The 
people  turned  out  en  masse  and  toiled  systematically  un- 
der the  genius  of  organization  and  the  direction  of  his 
lieutenants. 

He  who  has  come  to  believe  that  the  "  trade  winds  make 
the  climate  of  Hawaii,"  cannot  comprehend  why,  here  in 
Kona,  lying  north  and  south,  where  the  trades  are  cut  off 
by  Mauna  Loa's  bulk  to  the  east  and  the  dome  of  Hualalai 
to  the  north,  this  is  the  most  " abnormally  healthy"  climate 
in  the  group.  Explanation  is  found  in  the  frequent  after- 
noon and  night  rains  resulting  from  the  piling  up,  by 
a  gentle  west  wind,  of  banks  of  cloud  against  the  high 
lands.  Toward  sundown,  whatever  airs  have  been  blow- 
ing from  the  west,  die  out,  replaced  by  an  all-night  moun- 
tain breeze,  chill  and  refreshing,  which  makes  one  draw 
the  blankets  close. 


HOLUALOA,  Tuesday,  August  27,  1907. 

"The  little  ship  — the  little  old  tub!"  Jack  fairly 
crooned,  hanging  up  the  telephone  receiver.  "It  was  Cap- 
tain Warren,  and  they  anchored  last  night  in  Hilo  Bay.  He 
says  they  ran  into  a  stiff  gale  as  soon  as  they  got  out  of  that 
Blue  Flush  calm  of  yours,  and  the  big  schooner  that  left 
Kailua  the  same  day  had  to  double-reef,  while  our  audacious 
little  tub  weathered  the  big  blow  under  regular  working- 


220  OUR  HAWAII 

canvas.  The  captain's  voice  was  quite  shaky  with  emotion 
when  he  said  he  was  more  in  love  with  the  Snark  than 
ever.  —  Some  boat,  Mate- Woman,  some  boat!"  And  all 
during  the  drive  to  Kailua  to  call  on  Prince  and  Princess 
Kalanianaole  he  kept  bubbling  over  with  his  joy  in  "the 
little  tub." 

Prince  Cupid  had  repeatedly  urged  Dr.  Goodhue  to 
bring  us  to  see  them  at  the  Palace;  but  the  meeting 
was  doomed  through  carelessness  of  a  Japanese  servant 
who  failed  to  deliver  the  Doctor's  telephoned  message; 
and  the  couple,  to  our  disappointment,  were  absent. 

We  tied  the  team  in  the  broad  shade  of  an  old  banyan, 
and  proceeded  along  the  garden  path  between  white-pil- 
lared royal  palms  to  the  mauka  entrance,  where  we  knocked 
and  knocked  again  and  again.  Peering  through  the  ajar 
door,  we  saw,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  little  reception  hall, 
facing  our  way,  upon  its  man-high  pedestal  the  marble 
head  of  King  Kalakaua,  heroic  size,  festooned  with  freshly 
made  leis  of  the  enamel-green  maile  and  glowing  red  roses. 
Mrs.  Goodhue  and  I,  at  the  Doctor's  suggestion,  ventured 
inside  and  sat  upon  a  quaint  haircloth  sofa,  black  and  slip- 
pery, while  Jack  took  a  smoke  out  the  makai  door,  and 
the  Doctor  rapped  upon  an  inner  one.  A  slipshod  Japanese 
finally  answered  the  summons,  and  reported  no  one  at  home. 

So  I  was  robbed  of  my  opportunity  to  wander  in  the 
square  wooden  palace  of  departed  as  well  as  deposed  Poly- 
nesian royalty,  that  had  superseded  the  grass  habitations 
of  Hawaii's  undiscovered  centuries.  It  was  on  the  Kona 
coast,  according  to  tradition,  that  the  very  first  white 
navigators  who  flushed  these  Delectable  Isles  set  their 
feet  —  the  captain  of  a  Spanish  vessel  that  was  wrecked 
at  Keei,  just  below  Kealakekua  Bay.  The  only  other  sur- 
vivor was  his  sister,  and  the  natives  received  them  kindly. 
Intermarrying,  these  two  Castilian  castaways  became  the 
progenitors  of  well-known  chief  families,  one  of  these  being 
represented  by  Kaikioewa,  a  former  governor  of  Kauai. 


OUR  HAWAII  221 

There  is  also  small  doubt  that  the  Sandwich  Islands  were 
discovered  by  another  Spaniard,  Juan  Gaetano,  in  1555, 
since  no  other  Europeans  were  navigating  the  Pacific  at 
that  early  time. 

The  Princess's  garden  is  ravishing  —  a  fragrant  crush  of 
heliotrope  and  roses  and  begonias,  with  shadowy  bowers 
among  vine-veiled  high  trees.  Our  mind's  eye  needed 
only  the  flower  of  all  —  the  tropic  presence  of  the  mistress 
of  the  Palace. 

HOLUALOA,  Wednesday,  August  28,  1907. 

Many  letters  of  introduction  were  urged  upon  Jack 
London  when  the  Snark  sailed  for  earth's  remote  places, 
civilized  and  otherwise.  For  all  and  sundry  of  which  he 
was  grateful  —  and  laid  them  in  a  neat  pigeon-hole  in  his 
tiny,  practical  stateroom.  The  only  times  he  has  ever  been 
known  to  present  such  introductions  have  been  long  after 
acquaintance  has  in  some  other  way  come  about. 

"I  can't  do  it,"  he  protests.  "I'm  a  funny  sort  of  fel- 
low, I  suppose.  But  to  bludgeon  a  person  with  an  intro- 
ductory letter  is  as  good  as  asking  a  perfect  stranger  to 
put  himself  out  to  entertain  me  and  mine." 

The  residents  of  Kona,  to  one  or  two  of  whom  we  bear 
unpresented  letters,  have  been  exceedingly  kind  in  the  matter 
of  calling,  and  equally  indulgent  about  our  inability,  due  to 
work  and  sightseeing,  to  return  their  courtesy.  So  the 
Doctor  and  his  wife  conceived  the  idea,  which  Jack,  who 
hates  formal  calling,  hailed  with  acclaim,  of  inviting  them 
all  in  for  an  evening.  The  Doctor  also  made  the  suggestion 
that  Jack  read  aloud  some  of  his  early  stories;  and  Jack, 
albeit  he  likes  to  read  only  to  one  or  two,  or  a  very  few,  saw 
that  his  host  had  set  heart  upon  the  program,  and  consented 
willingly. 

The  neighborhood  gathered,  sixty  strong,  in  the  paneled 
rooms  that  could  easily  hold  twice  the  number,  lighted  by 


222  OUR  HAWAII 

colored  Chinese  lanterns;  and  following  a  general  re- 
ception, the  pleasant  company  settled  to  listen. 

Perhaps  the  good  Doctor  considered  his  young  house- 
guest  something  of  a  firebrand,  for,  with  affectionate  hand- 
on-shoulder,  in  his  well-modulated  voice  he  added  to  his 
announcement  of  the  stories  a  brief  statement  of  his  mis- 
understanding of  Jack's  political  views.  Jack,  who  never 
asks  that  his  uncompromising  Socialistic  position  on 
economics  be  in  the  least  glossed  over  for  anybody,  any- 
where, took  occasion  to  speak  briefly,  in  his  bright,  swift, 
eloquent  way,  on  the  topic  always  close  to  brain  and 
heart,  with  the  more  immediate  purpose  of  setting  his 
friend  and  himself  straight  in  relation  to  the  question.  The 
threescore  guests  approved  his  explanation  with  hearty 
applause. 

Midway  in  the  reading  of  the  three  Klondike  yarns  which 
Jack  had  chosen,  the  family  cat  waxed  unwontedly  hos- 
pitable and  desirous  of  attention,  as  is  the  way  of  some 
children  and  many  animals  upon  public  occasions.  The 
unglassed  window-casings  are  not  calculated  for  the  keeping- 
out  of  cats,  and  Mrs.  Puss  returned  again  and  again, 
threading  her  mewing  progress  among  the  chairs.  To  the 
undoing  of  poor  Jack,  already  irritated  and  diverted,  a  large 
cockroach  behind  him  on  the  polished  floor  claimed  the 
lean  huntress's  notice,  which  skurrying  victim  she  pursued 
between  the  unsuspecting  speaker's  feet  from  the  rear. 
Jack,  instantly  reminiscent  of  spiders  and  centipedes,  no 
matter  how  innocuous,  sprang  like  his  own  spring-muscled 
Sea  Wolf  straight  into  the  air,  coming  down  spiritually 
somewhat  beneath  floor-level  when  he  realized  the  cause 
of  startlement.  "I  can't  help  it!"  he  said,  flushed  and 
laughing.  "And  where  was  I,  anyway,  in  my  'flight  that 
midmost  broke'?"  picking  up  the  book  he  had  let  go. 

The  Kona  folk  dance  on  all  possible  occasions  except 
funerals  and  divine  worship ;  so  after  the  reading,  the 
smooth  lehua  floors  were  cleared,  and  the  younger  people, 


OUR  HAWAII  223 

to  a  caressing  native  orchestra,  danced,  while  others  talked 
with  Jack  on  the  lanai,  strolled  under  the  needled  branches 
of  the  ironwood  trees,  or  hung  out  of  broad  sills,  gazing 
across  the  unseen  void  of  lava  to  the  starlit  sea  and  up  into 
the  starlit  sky. 

HOLUALOA,  Thursday,  August  29,  1907. 

Mr.  Tommy  White,  aided  and  abetted  by  Mrs.  Tommy, 
making  good  their  determination  that  Jack  London  and 
his  wahine  should  see  a  real,  untarnished-by-haole  luau, 
had  us  down  once  more  to  the  jewel-sanded  horseshoe  of 
Keauhou  waterside,  and  gave  us  what  bids  fair  to  rival 
all  memories  of  Hawaiian  Hawaii  that  have  yet  been  ours. 

Our  one  responsibility,  at  ease  on  yielding  layers  of 
ferns  and  flowers  and  broad  ti-leaves  that  brown  hands 
had  spread,  was  to  strike  the  exact  right  human  note 
with  the  Keauhou  dwellers.  The  essential  thing  a 
foreigner,  who  would  know  them,  should  avoid  is  the 
slightest  spark  of  condescension  toward  the  free,  uncap- 
turable  spirit-stuff  of  the  race.  Proud,  with  fine,  light 
scorn  of  lip  and  eye,  volatile  if  you  will,  they  are  still 
unhumiliated  by  circumstance.  Grudges  they  do  not 
harbor;  but  pride  bulks  large  in  their  natures.  Affec- 
tion spent  upon  them  returns  in  tenfold  meed  of  love 
and  confidence  that  to  forfeit  would  be  one  of  the  few 
true  sins  of  mankind. 

Arriving  early  enough  to  observe  the  bustle  of  prepa- 
ration, we  peeped  into  an  improvised  kitchen  over  by  the 
bank,  near  which  sucking-pigs  were  barbecued  in  native 
fashion,  stuffed  with  hot  stones  and  wrapped  in  ti-leaves 
and  laid  among  other  hot  roasting-stones  in  the  ground ; 
and  wahines  sat  plaiting  individual  poi-baskets  from  broad- 
ribboned  grasses. 

The  men  were  approachable,  and  ready  to  chat  upon 


224  OUR  HAWAII 

the  least  encouragement.  One  in  particular  was  an  ele- 
gantly mannered  man,  of  fine  form  and  carriage  and  hand- 
some face,  hair  touched  with  gray  at  the  temples  and 
corners  of  eyes  sprayed  with  the  kindly  wrinkles  that  come 
from  much  smiling  through  life.  Educated  at  Punahou 
College  in  Honolulu,  he  speaks  noticeably  correct  English. 
Again  to-night  we  noticed  that  the  elderly  men  are  even 
more  distinguished  in  appearance  than  their  sons,  with 
unmistakably  aristocratic  air,  something  lion-like  about 
their  gray-curled  heads,  the  leonine  note  softened  by  smile- 
wrought  lines  and  wonderfully  sweet  expression  of  large, 
wide-set,  long-lashed  eyes.  And  in  their  bearing  is  a  slow 
stateliness  of  utter  serenity,  as  of  souls  born  to  riches  of 
content.  Many  tend  to  obesity ;  but  this  superior  specimen 
was  slim,  and  clean-limbed,  and  muscularly  graceful  as  a 
cadet  in  marching  trim. 

Mr.  Kawehaweha,  a  full-blooded  Hawaiian  who  ran  for 
the  Legislature  last  year,  was  cordial  as  ever,  and  entirely 
at  ease,  while  his  pretty  hapa-pake  wife,  amiably  non-com- 
mittal at  a  former  meeting,  blossomed  out  deliciously, 
talking  excellent  English  and  doing  much  by  her  unaffected 
example  to  draw  the  other  women  from  their  cool  aloofness. 

One  unerasable  picture  I  must  give :  Upon  arrival  we 
had  noticed  a  more  than  ordinarily  large  and  elegant  canoe 
of  brilliant  black  and  yellow,  fitted  with  mast  and  sail, 
hauled  out  upon  the  sunset-saffron  strand.  "The  Prince's 
canoe,"  was  the  word,  and  a  perfect  thing  it  was  in  the 
semi-torrid  scene.  And  then  came  Prince  Cupid,  and  we 
knew,  for  once,  why  he  was  so-called.  In  careless  open- 
breasted  fishing-clothes,  a  faint  embarrassment  in  his  calmly 
aristocratic  expression  as  he  regretted  his  absence  the  day 
of  our  call,  he  was  another  creature  from  the  formal  Prince 
of  Honolulu.  Despite  mature  years,  he  looked  a  beauti- 
ful boy  as  he  stood  before  us,  holding  his  hat  in  both 
taper  hands,  showing  a  double  row  of  white  teeth  in 
a  beautiful  smile  that  spread  like  breaking  sunlight  to 


OUR  HAWAII  225 

his  warm  brown  eyes.  He  declined  an  invitation  to  re- 
main to  the  luau,  pleading  his  rough  attire  as  an  excuse 
and  saying  that  he  was  expected  home ;  and  by  the  time 
we  were  taking  our  places  around  the  feast,  the  great  bar- 
baric canoe  floated  beside  the  pier  and  presently  sailed 
out  leisurely,  two  men  resting  on  their  steering-paddles, 
their  graceful,  indolent  Prince,  crowned  with  red  bugles 
of  stephanotis,  in  the  stern  sheets. 

In  the  past,  the  physical  difference  between  the  nobility 
—  alii  —  and  the  common  or  laboring  people  was  far  more 
marked  than  to-day,  when  practically  all  Hawaiians  are 
well  nourished.  "No  aristocracy,"  says  one  historian, 
"was  ever  more  distinctly  marked  by  nature."  Death 
was  the  penalty  for  the  merest  breach  of  etiquette,  such 
as  for  a  commoner  to  remain  on  his  feet  at  mention  of  the 
moi's  (king's)  name,  or  while  the  royal  food  or  beverage 
was  being  carried  past.  This  stricture  was  carried  even  to 
the  extent  of  punishing  by  death  any  subject  who  crossed 
the  shadow  of  the  sacred  presence  or  that  of  his  hale,  house. 
Besides  the  ordinary  household  officials,  such  as  wielder  of 
the  kahili,  custodian  of  the  cuspidor,  masseur  (the  Hawai- 
ians are  famous  for  their  clever  massage,  or  lomi-lomi},  as 
well  as  chief  steward,  treasurer,  heralds,  and  runners,  the 
court  of  a  high  chief  included  priests,  sorcerers,  bards 
and  story-tellers,  hula  dancers,  drummers,  and  even  jesters. 

The  chiefs  were  as  a  rule  the  only  owners  of  land,  ap- 
propriating all  that  the  soil  raised,  and  the  fish  adjacent 
to  it,  to  say  nothing  of  the  time  and  labor  of  the  makaainana 
(workers)  living  upon  it  —  a  proper  feudal  system.  The 
only  hold  the  common  people  and  the  petty  chiefs  had 
upon  the  moi  was  their  freedom  to  enter  service  with 
some  more  popular  tyrant ;  and  as  wars  were  frequent,  it 
behooved  monarchs  not  to  act  too  arbitrarily  lest  they  be 
caught  in  a  pinch  without  soldiery. 

Whenever  we  dip  into  the  lore  of  Hawaii,  "it  makes 
us  sit  up,"  to  quote  Jack  —  stirred  by  the  tremendous 
Q 


226  OUR  HAWAII 

romance  of  it  all,  visioning  the  conditions  of  those  days, 
among  rich  and  poor,  the  people  slaving  and  sweating  for 
their  warlike  masters,  and,  after  the  manner  of  slaves  the 
world  over  down  the  past,  worshiping  the  pageantry  sup- 
ported by  their  toil  —  whether  priceless  feather-mantles, 
ornaments,  weapons  of  warfare,  or  red-painted  canoes 
with  red  sails  cleaving  the  blue  of  ocean. 

Before  reclining  upon  the  green-carpeted  wharf,  we 
haole  guests  were  weighted  with  leis  of  the  blumeria,  in 
color  deep-cream  centered  with  yellow,  in  touch  like  cool, 
velvety  flesh,  clinging  caressingly  to  neck  and  shoulder. 
The  heavy  perfume  is  not  unlike  that  of  our  tuberose, 
although  not  quite  so  overpowering.  Half-breathing  in 
the  sensuous  air,  we  were  conscious  of  the  lapping  of  dark 
waters  below,  that  mirrored  the  star-hung  sky  dome. 

Our  unforced  appreciation  of  their  traditional  delicacies 
had  much  to  do  with  the  unbending  of  the  natives,  both 
those  who  sat  with  us  and  those  who  served.  And  when 
Jack  and  I  were  seen  to  twirl  our  fingers  deftly  in  their 
beloved  poi  and  absorb  it  with  avidity  that  was  patently 
honest,  the  younger  women  and  girls  were  captured, 
ducking  behind  one  another  in  giggly  flurry  at  each 
encounter  of  smiles  and  glances.  I  wonder  if  they  ever 
pause  to  be  thankful  that  they  live  in  the  days  of  ai  noa, 
free  eating,  as  against  those  of  ai  kapu,  tabu  eating,  which 
obtained  before  the  time  of  Kamehameha  II ! 

The  foods  were  of  the  finest,  and,  half-lying,  like  the 
Romans,  we  ate  at  our  length  —  and  almost  ate  our  length 
of  the  endless  variety,  this  time  without  implements  of 
civilized  cutlery.  I  suppose  quite  unnecessarily,  we  pitied 
those  who  boast  that  they  have  lived  so-and-so  many  years 
in  the  Islands  and  have  never  even  tasted  poi  —  together 
with  most  other  good  things  of  the  land  and  sea  and  air.i 

Jack  and  I,  recalling  the  christening  feast  at  Pearl  Lochs, 
for  some  sign  of  desire  on  the  part  of  the 


OUR  HAWAII  227 

Hawaiians  to  dance,  and  finally  asked  Mr.  Kawehaweha 
about  it.  The  young  people  appeared  unconquerably 
bashful,  but  an  old  man,  grizzled  and  wrinkled,  his  dim  eyes 
retrospective  of  nearly  fourscore  years,  squatted  before 
us,  reenforced  with  a  rattling  dried  gourd,  and  displayed 
the  rather  emasculated  hula  of  the  Kalakaua  reign  —  an 
angular  performance  of  elbows  and  knees  accompanied  by 
a  monotonous,  weird  chant,  the  explosive  rattling  of  the 
gourd  accentuating  the  high  lights.  The  hoary  ancient 
responded  to  several  encores,  and  while  the  " dance"  was 
different  from  any  we  had  witnessed,  it  seemed  a  bloodless 
and  decadent  example  of  motion  in  which  was  none  of  the 
zest  of  life  that  rules  the  dancing  of  untrained  peoples. 

With  smiles  and  imploring  looks,  and  finally,  in  response 
to  their  tittering  protestations  of  ignorance  of  the  steps, 
declaring  that  after  all  we  believed  they  did  not  know  the 
hula,  we  touched  the  mettle  of  a  number  of  the  younger 
maidens.  One  white-gowned  girl  of  sixteen  disappeared 
from  the  line  sitting  along  the  stringer-piece  of  the  pier, 
and  presently,  out  of  the  dusk  at  the  land-end,  materializ- 
ing between  the  indistinct  rows  of  her  people,  she  undulated 
to  the  barbaric  two-step  fretting  of  an  old  guitar  that  had 
been  strumming  throughout.  Instantly  the  social  atmos- 
phere underwent  a  change,  glowing  and  warming.  Wahines 
with  their  sweet  consenting  faces,  and  their  men,  strong 
bodies  relaxed  as  they  rested  among  the  ferns,  jested  musi- 
cally in  the  speech  that  has  been  likened  to  a  gargle  of 
vowels.  Another  and  younger  sprite  took  form  in  the 
shoreward  gloom  and  joined  the  first,  where  the  two  re- 
volved about  each  other  like  a  pair  of  pale  moths  in  the 
lantern  light.  Fluttering  before  Mrs.  Kawehaweha,  they 
invited  her  to  make  one  of  them;  but  either  she  could 
not  for  diffidence,  or  would  not,  even  though  her  husband 
sprang  into  the  charmed  space  and  danced  and  gestured 
temptingly  before  her  blushing,  laughing  face.  A  sjjrn  old 
wahine  coaxed  by  the  two  girls,  whom  all  the  dornpany 


228  OUR  HAWAII 

seemed  anxious  to  show  off  as  their  choicest  exponent  of 
the  olden  hula,  next  stood  before  us,  and  held  us  breathless 
with  an  amazing  and  all-too-short  dance.  Unsmiling,  she 
seemed  without  consciousness  of  our  presence — twisting  and 
circling,  drawing  unseen  forms  to  her  withered  heart,  level 
eyes  and  still  mouth  expressionless,  dispassionate  as  a  mum- 
my's. She  was  anything  but  comely,  and  far  from  youth- 
ful. But  she  could  out-dance  the  best  and  command  the 
speechless  attention  of  all. 

Came  a  pause  when  the  guitar  trembled  on,  although  it 
seemed  that  the  dancing  must  be  done.  Just  as,  reluc- 
tantly, we  began  to  gather  ourselves  and  our  leis  and  every- 
day senses,  in  order  not  to  outlive  the  sumptuous  welcome, 
into  the  wavering  light  there  glided  a  very  young  girl, 
slender  and  dark,  curl-crowned,  dainty  and  lovely  as  a 
dryad,  who  stepped  and  postured  listlessly  with  slow  and 
slower  passes  of  slim  brown  hands  in  the  air,  as  a  butterfly 
opens  and  shuts  its  wings  on  a  flower,  waiting  for  some 
touch  to  send  it  madly  wheeling  into  space. 

And  he  came  —  the  Dancing  Faun ;  I  knew  him  the 
moment  he  greeted  my  eyes.  Black  locks  curled  tightly 
to  his  shapely  head,  his  nose  was  blunt  and  broad,  eyes  wild 
and  wicked-black  with  fun,  and  lips  full  and  curled  back 
from  small,  regular  teeth.  I  could  swear  to  a  pointed  ear 
in  his  curls  to  either  side,  and  that  his  foot  was  cloven.  I 
could  not  see  these  things,  but  knew  they  must  be.  His 
shirt,  for  even  a  Faun  must  wear  a  shirt  in  twentieth  cen- 
tury Hawaii,  was  a  frank  tatter  —  a  tatter  and  nothing 
more,  over  a  splendid  chest  that  was  brown  and  glistening. 
The  hands,  long  and  strong,  spoke  the  getting  of  an  easy 
livelihood  from  tropic  branches. 

The  listless  dryad  swayed  into  quickened  life,  and  the 
last  and  most  beautiful  spectacle  of  the  night  was  on.  I 
do  not  try  to  describe  a  hula.  To  you  it  may  mean  one 
thing,  or  -many;  to  me,  something  else,  or  many  other 
things.  One  may  read  vulgarity  and  sordid  immorality 


OUR  HAWAII  229 

into  it ;  another  infuse  it  with  art  and  with  poetry.  And 
it  is  the  love-poetry  of  the  Polynesian.  A  poet  sings  be- 
cause he  must.  The  Hawaiian  dances  because  he  cannot 
help  dancing.  Deprived  of  his  mode  of  motion,  he  fades 
away,  and  is  likely  to  become  immoral  where  before  he  was 
but  unmoral,  as  a  child  may  be.  The  page  of  the  history 
of  this  people  is  nearly  turned.  Such  as  they  were,  they 
have  never  really  changed  —  the  individuality  of  their 
blood,  manifested  in  their  features,  their  very  facial 
expression,  is  not  strong  enough  to  persist  as  a  race,  but 
unaltered  endures  in  proportion  to  its  quantity,  so  largely 
mixed  as  it  is  with  other  strains.  The  pure-bred  Hawaiians 
are  now  far-apart  and  few,  dying  off  every  year  with 
none  to  fill  their  gracious  places.  The  page  is  being  torn 
off  faster  and  faster,  and  soon  must  flutter  away. 

HOLUALOA,  to  HUEHUE,  Friday,  August  30,  1907. 

The  Doctor,  as  a  final  benefaction,  waiving  inconven- 
ience to  himself,  sent  us  and  our  luggage  the  whole  journey 
to  Waimea  on  the  Parker  Ranch,  in  his  own  carriage,  in 
charge  of  the  Portuguese  coachman,  Jose. 

The  first  night  we  were  fortunate  enough  to  spend  at 
Huehue,  home  of  the  John  Maguires,  wealthy  Hawaiian 
ranchers  who  had  extended  the  invitation  at  the  Goodhues' 
reception.  Lacking  such  hospitality,  the  malihini  must 
travel,  either  by  horse  or  carriage,  or  the  one  automobile 
stage,  a  very  long  distance  to  any  sort  of  hotel.  "They 
don't  know  what  they've  got!"  Jack  commented  on  the 
ignorance  of  the  American  public  concerning  the  glorious 
possibilities  of  this  country.  "Just  watch  this  land  in 
the  future,  when  they  once  wake  up !" 

Mrs.  Maguire,  one  eighth  Hawaiian,  is  an  unmitigated 
joy,  compounded  as  she  is  of  sweet  dignity  and  a  bubbling 
vivacity  that  wipes  out  all  thought  of  years  and  the  wavy 
graying  hair  that  only  adds  to  the  beauty  of  her  brown 


230  OUR  HAWAII 

eyes  —  a  merry,  sympathetic  companion,  one  decides,  for 
all  moods  and  ages.  Her  husband  is  also  part  haole,  but 
looks  a  noble  example  of  the  Hawaiian  type,  like  the  de- 
scendant of  a  race  of  rulers,  strong  kings,  with  commanding 
brow  and  eye  of  eagle,  firm  mouth,  square  jaw,  and  stern 
aquiline  nose,  the  lofty-featured  countenance  gentled  by  a 
thatch  of  thick  powder-gray  hair  and  a  most  benevolent 
expression. 

And  the  pair,  we  find,  have  been  wedded  but  a  year  or 
two.  Aileen,  a  thirteen-year-old  heiress,  granddaughter  of 
John  Maguire  through  a  former  alliance,  completes  the 
small  family. 

The  Kona  Sewing  Guild  was  in  full  blast  when  we  drew 
up  in  the  blooming  garden  of  the  rambling  house.  Mrs. 
Goodhue,  who  had  come  this  far  on  our  way,  joined  the 
force  and  left  me  napping  on  a  hikie  in  our  guest-cottage, 
tired  from  a  strenuous  day  of  packing,  typing  —  and  trav- 
eling, even  through  such  beautiful  country,  in  full  view  of 
the  ravishing  Blue  Flush  of  sea  and  sky. 

"I  hate  to  wake  my  poor  tired  Kid-Woman,"  Jack's 
voice  called  me  from  sleep  an  hour  later;  "but  the  most 
wonderful  horse  out  here  is  waiting  for  you  to  ride  him." 

"But  I've  no  clothes,"  as  I  came  back  to  earth. 

"Oh,  I've  got  some  for  you,"  he  grinned,  depositing  a 
bright-red  calico  muumuu  on  the  hikie,  "and  I'm  just  dying 
to  see  you  ride  in  it !  —  Mrs.  Maguire  has  one  on,  and 
looks  all  right." 

Properly  adjusted,  in  the  cross-saddle  this  full  garment 
appears  like  bloomers,  and  I  can  vouch  is  surpassingly 
comfortable. 

And  to  me  they  led  one  of  Pharaoh's  horses  —  no  other 
could  it  be,  so  full  his  eye,  so  proud  his  neck,  the  pricking 
of  his  ear  so  fine;  none  but  a  steed  of  Pharaoh's  wears 
quite  such  flare  of  nostril,  nor  looks  so  loftily  across  the 
plain.  Ah,  he  is  something  to  remember,  "Sweet  Lei 
Lehua,"  and  we  can  never  forget  his  lovely  crest,  nor  the 


OUR  HAWAII  231 

flick  of  that  small  pointed  ear,  and  the  red,  red  nostril, 
blowing  scented  breath  of  grass  and  flowers  —  sweet  as 
the  flower  whose  name  he  wears. 

Our  ride  was  on  the  lava-rocky  flank  of  Hualalai  and  all 
within  the  boundaries  of  the  Maguire  possessions,  which 
comprise  some  60,000  acres.  My  steed,  like  the  Welshman 
on  Haleakala  showing  yonder  above  the  clouds,  evidenced 
his  sober  years  only  in  judgment  of  head  and  hoof.  We 
breasted  precarious  places  of  sliding  stones  and  slid  down 
others  as  steep  and  uncertain,  brushing  lehua  and  ferns ; 
into  deep,  green-grown  blowholes  of  prehistoric  convul- 
sions we  peered ;  and  finally,  descending  a  verdant  pinna- 
cle where  Mrs.  Maguire  led  for  the  viewing  of  broad 
downward  miles  of  tumultuous  lava  to  the  blue  sea,  we 
went  most  gingerly  on  a  grassy  trail  beset  with  snares  of 
lava  tinkling  like  glass,  over  natural  bridges  of  the  same 
brittle-blown  substance,  then  threaded  a  sparse  lehua  wood 
to  the  main  road. 

All  the  while  our  hostess,  younger  hearted  than  any,  even 
little  Aileen,  was  the  spirit  of  the  party,  a  constant  incen- 
tive to  daring  climbs  or  breathless  bursts  of  speed,  just  an 
untired  girl  in  mind  and  body  of  her,  and  one  could  but 
join  gloryingly  in  her  abandon  of  enjoyment  that  comes 
with  swift  and  easy  motion,  urging  to  greater  effort,  whirl- 
ing around  curves,  going  out  of  the  way  to  leap  obstacles. 
And  which  is  better,  and  what  constitutes  long  life :  to  sit 
peacefully  with  folded  hands  while  the  rout  goes  by  a-horse- 
back  with  laugh  and  love  and  song,  walking  carefully  all 
one's  days,  or  to  live  in  heat  of  blood  and  thrill  of  beauty 
and  every  cell  of  persisting  youth,  taking  high  hazard  with 
sea  and  sail,  mountain  and  horse,  and  every  adventurous 
desire?  Jack,  with  his  high-hearted  exuberance,  is  my 
living  answer  and  example. 

Spinning  an  abrupt  curve,  the  animals  stopped  at  a 
gate  like  shots  against  a  target,  and  our  gleeful  leader 
spurred  at  right  angles  straight  up  a  four-foot  stone  wall  to 


232  OUR  HAWAII 

the  next  zigzag  of  road,  we  following  willy-nilly  in  the 
mad  scramble,  marveling  how  we  escaped  a  spill. 

Following  the  Feast  of  Horses  came  the  luau  —  not 
so-called,  for  it  is  the  usual  dinner  of  these  people  who,  it 
seems  to  us,  feed  upon  nectar  and  ambrosia.  Fancy  the 
young,  tender  fowl,  stewed  in  coconut  cream,  and  the  picked 
and  lomied  rosy  salmon  bellies,  with  rosier  fresh  tomatoes, 
and  salmon-pink  salt  like  ground  pigeon-blood  rubies, 
and  —  but  the  entirely  Hawaiian  dinner,  served  with  all 
the  elegance  of  a  wealthy  menage,  cannot  be  described. 

"Go  on,  play,  Mate,"  Jack  said  in  the  twilight,  where  he 
lounged  on  the  lanai  after  dining ;  "  I  haven't  heard  a  funeral 
march  on  a  grand  piano  for  a  long  time,  in  this  lotus 
loveland  of  guitars  and  ukuleles  and  their  delectable  airs." 

And  so,  high  upon  Hualalai  in  the  Sandwich  Isles,  I 
sat  me  down  to  the  Largo  of  Handel,  and  Chopin's  and 
Beethoven's  stately  processionals.  For  the  man  of  my 
heart  loves  nothing  better  than  these  funereal  rhythms 
of  the  masters.  And,  for  once,  in  this  land  of  spent  fires, 
we  all  forewent  and  forgot  the  lilt  of  hulas  and  threnodies 
of  dusky  love  songs,  in  the  brave,  deep  music  of  our  own 
Caucasian  blood. 

"I  haven't  heard  those  things  since  I  studied  in  Paris," 
Mrs.  Maguire  said,  with  reminiscence  in  her  sobered  eyes ; 
and  a  "Thank  you"  for  the  Largo  came  through  the  door- 
way from  a  visiting  clergyman,  while  a  blithe  young  judge 
of  the  District  called  for  Mendelssohn's  Funeral  March 
while  I  was  about  it. 

But  Jack,  with  cigarette  dead  between  his  pointed 
fingers,  lay  in  a  long  chair,  his  wide  eyes  star-roving  in  the 
purple  pit  of  the  night  sky;  for  music  always  sets  him 
dreaming,  and  many's  the  time  I  have  momentarily  won- 
dered, at  concert  and  opera,  if  he  heard  aught  but  the  sug- 
gestions of  the  opening  measures,  so  busily  did  he  make 
notes  upon  whatever  those  suggestions  had  been  to  his 
flying  brain. 


OUR  HAWAII  233 

HUEHUE,  to  PARKER  RANCH, 
Saturday,  August  31,   1907. 

"The  sweetest  poi  is  eaten  out  of  the  hau  tree,"  "He 
mikomiko  ka  ai'na  oka  poi  o  loko  oka  umeke  hau,"  say  the 
Hawaiians;  and  our  parting  gift  from  the  Maguires  was 
a  little  treasure  of  a  calabash,  polished  smooth  and  shin- 
ing, of  the  light-golden  wood,  out  of  their  cherished  hoard. 

Then,  sped  by  the  warm  "  Aloha  nui  oe"  of  all,  and 
a  last  farewell  from  " Mother"  Goodhue,  we  set  our  faces 
toward  the  expanse  of  lava  that  was  to  be  our  portion  for 
a  day.  Our  principal  impression,  geographical  as  well 
as  geological,  of  the  journey,  is  of  lava,  and  lava,  and 
more  lava  —  new  lava  of  1881,  old  lava,  older  lava,  oldest 
lava,  and  wide  waste  of  inexpressible  ruin  upon  ruin  of 
lava,  lava  without  end.  How  present  any  conception  of 
this  resistless,  gigantic  fall  of  molten  rock  across  which, 
mid-mountain,  our  road  graded  ?  For  the  general  aspect  of 
dead,  stilled  lava  is  little  different  from  the  photographic 
portrayal  of  the  living,  fluid  substance.  It  cools,  and 
quickly,  in  the  veriest  shapes  of  its  activity,  and  the  trav- 
eler who  misses  the  wonder  of  a  moving  mountain  side  sees 
fair  representation  in  the  arrested  flood.  It  needs  little 
imagination  to  assist  one's  eye  to  carry  to  the  brain  the 
illusion  of  movement  in  the  long  red-brown  sweep  from 
mountain  top  to  sea  margin.  In  many  places  we  could 
see  where  hotter,  faster  streams  had  cut  through  slower, 
wider  swaths ;  and  again,  following  the  line  of  least  resist- 
ance, where  some  swift,  deep  torrent  had  burned  its  devas- 
tating way  down  between  the  rocky  banks  of  a  gully. 

The  pahoehoe  lava  preserves  all  its  swirls  and  eddies 
precisely  as  they  chilled  in  the  long-ago  or  shorter-ago ; 
while  the  a-a  rears  snapping,  flame-like  edges  against  ob- 
structions, or  has  piled  up  of  its  own  coolness  in  toothed 
walls.  Far,  incalculable,  shimmering  leagues  below,  pur- 
ple-brown lava  rivers  lie  like  ominous  shadows  of  unseen 


234  OUR  HAWAII 

menaces  upon  plains  of  disintegrate  eruptive  stuff  of  our 
starry  system  that  has  for  remotest  ages  ceased  to  resemble 
lava. 

Ribboning  this  strange,  fire-licked  landscape  our  road 
lay  gray  white  as  ashes,  sometimes  spanning  dreadful 
chasms  where  once  had  blown  great  blisters  and  bubbles 
which,  chilling  too  suddenly,  had  collapsed,  leaving  caverns 
and  bridges  of  material  fragile  as  crystal,  layer  upon  layer, 
that  at  close  range  looked  to  be  molten  metal,  shining  like 
flaked  gold  and  silver  mixed  with  base  alloy. 

Often  our  eyes  lifted  to  the  azure  summer  sea  with  its 
tracks  like  footprints  of  the  winds,  or  as  if  the  water  had 
been  brushed  by  great  wings.  And  with  this  day,  meeting 
the  breezes  of  Windward  Hawaii,  there  passed  my  Blue 
Flush  into  the  limbo  of  heavenly  memories. 

Leaving  the  later  flow,  we  traversed  a  land  of  lava  so 
eternally  ancient  that  it  blossoms  with  fertile  growth. 
Beautiful  color  of  plant  life  springs  from  this  seared  dust 
of  millenniums  —  cactus  blossoming  magenta  and  reddish- 
gold  and  snow-white;  native  hibiscus,  flaunting  tawny- 
gold  flames  in  high,  scraggly  trees  of  scant  foliage ;  lehua's 
crimson-threaded  paint  brushes ;  blue  and  white  morning- 
glories  and  patches  of  red  flowers,  flung  about  like  velvet 
rugs.  And  here  one  comes  upon  what  remains  of  a  famous 
sandalwood  forest  that  was  systematically  despoiled  by 
generations  of  traders  from  the  time  of  its  discovery  some- 
where around  1790,  according  to  Vancouver.  By  1816  the 
deforesting  of  sandalwood  had  become  an  important  in- 
dustry of  the  natives,  chief  and  commoner,  with  foreigners. 

The  wood  was  originally  exported  to  India,  although 
said  to  be  rather  inferior.  Then  the  Canton  market  claimed 
the  bulk  of  the  aromatic  timber,  where  it  was  used  for 
carved  furniture,  as  well  as  for  incense.  Even  the  roots 
were  grubbed  by  the  avaricious  native  woodsmen,  and 
trade  flourished  until  about  1835,  when  the  government 
awoke  to  the  exterminating  of  the  valuable  tree,  and 


OUR  HAWAII  235 

put  a  ban  upon  the  cutting  of  the  younger  growth.  But  it 
is  not  surprising  to  learn  that  the  tireless  forethought 
of  Kamehameha  had  already  protested  against  the  in- 
discriminate barter,  and  particularly  the  sacrifice  of  the 
new  growth. 

Thoroughly  we  enjoyed  our  novel  holiday,  when  we 
grew  warm  and  tired,  napping  alternately  on  the  back  seat 
on  each  other's  shoulders,  Jack,  as  is  his  fashion,  dropping 
off  suddenly  like  a  child.  When  awake,  he  is  always 
either  working,  talking,  or  reading;  and  I  love  to  see 
his  damp,  curly  head  droop  to  the  urge  of  a  drowsy 
afternoon,  for  every  moment's  unconsciousness  adds  to  his 
strength  for  the  busy  task  of  living  that  he  has  set  himself. 
"You  must  simply  hate  me  for  the  way  I  can  sleep,  any 
time  and  anywhere,"  he  will  sympathize  with  my  in- 
somnia —  for  he  declares  he  has  never  yet  seen  me  asleep. 
"Why,  once,"  I  have  heard  him  tell,  "when  I  was  a  boy, 
I  got  to  thinking  how  awful  it  would  be  to  have  insomnia, 
and  I  stayed  awake  all  of  one  night.  It  was  awful.  But  it 
never  happened  again  to  me." 

The  livelong  day  we  had  traveled  upon  privately  owned 
ranches,  and  at  last  found  ourselves  on  Parker  Ranch,  the 
largest  in  the  Territory,  its  variously  guessed-at  150,000 
acres  lying  between  and  on  the  slopes  of  the  Kohala 
Mountains  to  the  north,  knobby  with  spent  blowholes, 
and  great  Mauna  Kea,  reaching  into  the  vague  fastnesses 
of  the  latter.  This  grand  estate,  estimated  at  $3,000,000, 
is  the  property  of  one  small,  slim  descendant  of  the  original 
John  Parker,  who,  with  a  beautiful  Hawaiian  maiden  to 
wife,  founded  the  famous  line  and  the  famous  ranch, 
which  is  a  principality  in  itself.  Perhaps  no  young  Hawaiian 
#irl,  since  Kaiulani,  has  commanded,  however  modestly, 
so  conspicuous  a  place  as  that  occupied  by  the  beautiful 
Thelma  Parker. 

For  all  we  had  gone  with  humane  leisure,  the  horses 
fagged  as  the  day  wore,  and  often  we  walked  awhile 


236  OUR  HAWAII 

to  rest  them  and  refresh  our  own  cramped  members,  tread- 
ing rich  pasture  like  the  field  of  Ardath,  starred  with 
flowers  we  did  not  know,  and  keeping  an  eye  to  bands 
of  Scotch  beef-cattle,  some  of  the  20,000  head  with  which 
little  Thelma  is  credited.  After  the  pampering  climate 
of  Kona,  coats  and  carriage  robes  were  none  too  warm 
at  the  close  of  day,  when  we  neared  the  sizable  post- 
office  village  of  Waimea,  headquarters  of  the  enormous 
ranch. 

Never  shall  be  forgotten  that  approach  to  Waimea  lying 
under  Kohala's  jade-green  mountains  like  California's  in 
showery  springtime;  nor  the  little  craters  in  plain  and 
valley,  like  red  mouths  blowing  kisses  to  the  sun ;  nor  yet 
the  softly  painted  foothills  and  sunset  cloud-rack,  and  the 
sweet,  cool  wind  and  lowing  herds. 

"It  seems  like  something  I  have  dreamed,  long  ago," 
Jack  mused ;  for,  year  in  and  year  out,  in  sleep  he  often 
wanders  purposefully  in  a  land  of  unconscious  mind  that 
his  waking  eyes  have  never  seen. 

PARKER  RANCH,  Monday,  September  2,  1907. 

Jack  has  always  declared  that  the  only  accident  he 
feared  was  a  blow  on  the  head  from  behind  that  would 
"addle"  his  brain.  And  yesterday  morning,  while  the 
blow  came,  not  from  a  garroter  but  from  the  solid  sod  of 
earth,  the  dreaded  "addle"  became  one  of  his  experiences 
of  life. 

Through  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Thurston,  we  are  enjoying 
the  hospitality  of  the  manager,  Mr.  Alfred  W.  Carter,  and 
his  wife,  who  dwell  in  the  roomy  home  of  Thelma,  now 
abroad.  And  right  welcome  they  made  us  in  their  quiet, 
unobtrusive  manner. 

In  the  morning  Mr.  Carter  had  our  saddles  put  on  "per- 
fectly safe"  horses  that  were  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
ebullient  animals  Mrs.  Maguire  chose  for  us.  Mr.  Carter 


OUR  HAWAII  237 

was  evidently  going  to  take  no  risks;  nevertheless  the 
most  curious  thing  happened. 

The  big,  stolid-looking  gray  selected  for  Jack  was  a 
dependable  character  on  which  the  youngest  Carter  children 
were  taught  to  ride  —  an  ideal  " family"  horse.  Jack 
was  in  his  saddle,  and  turning  to  speak  to  our  hostess  at 
the  gate,  when  the  gray  rose  in  air  and  came  head-down 
in  an  unmistakable  and  violent  "buck."  Pitching,  rearing, 
whirling,  none  but  a  proper  "bronco  buster"  could  have 
stayed  on  its  back,  and  Jack,  who  had  never  ridden  a  buck- 
ing horse  in  his  life,  stuck  creditably  enough  until,  after  a 
short  plunging  run,  the  beast  twisted  suddenly  and  he 
was  thrown  clear  to  the  side,  striking  on  left  shoulder  and 
back  of  head. 

I  was  terribly  frightened  at  the  thudding  impact,  but 
Jack  struggled  to  his  feet,  bewildered  and  much  put-out, 
and  offered  to  remount  the  snorting  animal.  Mr.  Carter, 
however,  now  on  the  ground,  would  not  allow  this,  and 
himself  made  the  attempt.  At  his  first  touch  the  spiritless 
family  pet  recommenced  his  performance,  while  Mrs. 
Carter  begged  her  husband  to  desist. 

The  kanaka  cowboy  who  had  brought  the  horses  re- 
moved Jack's  Australian  saddle,  threw  on  his  own  Mexican 
one  with  scant  gentleness,  and  sprang  into  it,  and  there 
was  no  pilikia  whatever.  Jack's  saddle  was  gone  over  by 
Mr.  Carter,  but  he  could  find  no  irritating  burr  nor  anything 
to  account  for  the  extraordinary  behavior  of  the  horse. 

We  thought,  Jack  and  I,  that  the  stalwart  cowboys  did 
not  look  entirely  guiltless  of  practical  joking;  but  their 
master  would  not  listen  to  any  such  aspersion,  because,  if 
for  no  other  reason,  they  would  not  dare  tamper  with  the 
family's  stand-by. 

The  saddle  was  put  on  a  bay  mare,  and  we  carried  out 
the  program  of  visiting  the  racing  stables ;  and  I  alone  was 
aware  of  the  pain  in  Jack's  eyes  from  the  rising  agony  in 
his  head. 


238  OUR  HAWAII 

That  night  the  ache  became  maddening,  and  I  worked 
long  hours,  kneading  his  spinal  column  and  the  back  of 
his  neck,  and  applying  cold  compresses  when  he  verged  on 
delirium,  meanwhile  dreading  the  worst  from  the  fever 
that  increased  till  his  face  was  scarlet  and  his  tongue 
babbled  nonsense. 

In  despair,  I  decided  to  reverse  the  treatment,  and  went 
foraging  to  the  silent  region  of  the  kitchen  for  hot  water. 
Immediately  this  compress  was  applied  to  the  base  of  his 
brain,  a  change  was  noticeable,  and  very  soon  the  sufferer 
was  quietly  asleep,  to  my  inexpressible  relief.  To-day  he 
is  still  abed,  weak  from  shock  of  accident  and  delirium, 
congratulating  himself  that  his  brain  was  not  permanently 
addled,  and  laughing  over  my  report  of  the  comical  things 
he  said  when  out  of  his  head. 

Judging  from  even  the  little  we  have  been  able  to  see  of 
the  Parker  Ranch,  it  is  reason  in  itself  for  a  future  visit 
to  Hawaii.  The  glorious  country,  with  its  invaluable  as- 
sets, is  handled  with  all  the  precision  of  a  great  corporation. 
In  our  short  ride  we  saw  a  few  of  the  fine  thoroughbred 
horses  which  are  raised,  one  of  the  imported  stallions  being 
a  son  of  Royal  Flush.  Royal  Flush,  the  sire,  lives  and 
moves  and  pursues  his  golden-chestnut  being  on  the  ranch  of 
Rudolf  Spreckles,  adjoining  our  own  on  Sonoma  Mountain. 

LOUISSON  BROTHERS'  COFFEE  PLANTATION, 

HONOKAA  DISTRICT,  HAWAII, 
Thursday,  September  5,  1907. 

The  Carters  would  not  hear  of  Jack  traveling  before 
the  end  of  three  days,  by  which  time  the  worst  of  the  aching 
soreness  was  gone  from  his  head.  And  on  Wednesday,  in 
their  carriage  drawn  by  a  pair  of  big  roadsters  driven  by  a 
Hawaiian  coachman,  we  proceeded  to  Honokaa,  where  we 
were  met  by  another  carriage,  sent  by  the  Louisson  brothers. 

The  day's  trip  demonstrated  a  still  better  realization  that 


OUR  HAWAII  239 

the  Big  Island  comprises  two  thirds  of  Hawaii  Nei's  area 
of  6700  square  miles,  as  well  as  the  copiously  watered 
fertility  of  this  windward  coast.  Leaving  Waimea,  we 
continued  across  the  rolling  green  plains,  whose  indefinite 
borders  were  lost  in  Mauna  Kea's  misty  foothills.  Rain 
fell  soothingly,  and  often  we  glimpsed  fierce-looking,  curly- 
headed  Scotch  bulls  with  white  faces,  vignetted  in  breaking 
Scotch  mist  into  the  veriest  details  of  old  steel  engravings ; 
and  Hawaiian  cowboys,  taking  form  in  the  cottony  vapor- 
ousness,  waved  and  called  to  our  coachman  ere  swallowed 
again. 

One  cannot  encompass  Hawaii  without  stepping  upon 
the  feet  of  one  lordly  mountain  or  another.  If  it  is  not  the 
exalted  Mauna  Kea,  it  is  surely  the  hardly  less  lofty  Mauna 
Loa,  or  Hualalai. 

And  everywhere,  here  as  always  in  these  Islands,  any 
moment  one  may  look  off  to  the  sea,  whether  cahn  or  blue- 
flushed,  or,  as  here,  deep-blue  and  white- whipped,  driven 
like  a  mighty  river  by  the  strong  and  steady  trade  wind. 
One  never  grows  fully  accustomed  to  the  startling  height 
of  the  horizon,  which  seems  always  above  eye-level,  cradling 
one's  senses  in  a  vast  blue  bowl. 

At  last  the  road  dipped  seaward  to  the  bluffs  where  lies 
red-roofed,  tree-sheltered  Honokaa,  headquarters  of  a  great 
sugar  plantation.  Jack  made  all  arrangements  for  our 
weary  team  and  the  driver  to  be  cared  for  overnight, 
rather  than  return  the  same  day;  and  after  luncheon  at 
the  little  hotel,  we  set  out  upon  the  almost  unbroken  climb 
of  several  miles  to  Louissons'  coffee  plantation,  where  we 
had  been  invited  by  these  two  indefatigable  brothers.  Never 
have  I  met  but  one  man  who  could  surpass  in  perpetual 
motion  our  dear  and  earnest  friend  Alexander  Hume  Ford, 
and  that  man  is  "Abe"  Louisson,  who,  body  and  eye  and 
brain,  seems  animated  by  a  galvanic  battery.  His  brother 
Henry  is  correspondingly  serene  and  restrained,  but  the 
two  are  all  of  a  piece  of  unaffected  hospitality. 


24o  OUR  HAWAII 

It  was  a  waving,  shimmering  land  of  incalculable  breadth 
and  length  through  which  we  ascended,  of  green  so  fair 
that  there  is  no  other  green  like  it  —  cane  so  closely  standing 
that  it  responds  to  all  moods  of  the  capricious  sky,  like  the 
pale-green  surfaces  of  mountain  lakes ;  cane  that  floods  its 
fair  green  clear  to  the  sudden  red  verge  of  cliffs  sheering 
into  the  blue,  high-breaking  ocean.  And  every  way  we 
looked,  there  were  the  sweat-shining,  swart  foreigners, 
Japanese,  Portuguese,  and  what  not,  in  their  blue-denim 
livery  of  labor,  watched  and  directed  by  mounted  khaki- 
gaitered  lunas  (overseers),  white  or  Hawaiian,  or  both, 
under  broad  sombreros. 

We  had  not  been  in  the  high-basemented  cottage  half 
an  hour,  when  the  driven  enthusiasm  of  Mr.  "Abe"  had 
us  out  again  and  among  the  magnificent  coffee  plants ;  and 
we  learned  that  a  coffee  plantation  can  be  one  of  the  prettiest 
places  under  heaven,  with  its  polished,  dark-green  foliage, 
head-high  and  over,  crowded  with  red  jewels  of  berries, 
interspersed  by  a  valuable  imported  shade  tree  which  he 
calls  the  grevillea.  This  tree  serves  the  dual  purpose  of 
shading  the  plants  —  which  are  kept  resolutely  trimmed  to 
convenient  height  —  and  of  fertilizing  with  its  leaves  the 
damp  ground  under  the  thick  shrubbery.  And  nowhere 
have  we  seen  such  luxuriant  growth  of  coffee.  The  after- 
dinner  cafe  noir  was  unequaled  in  our  experience  save  for  a 
certain  magic  brew  we  used  to  drink  at  the  Francis  Planta- 
tion in  the  mountains  of  Jamaica  less  than  two  years  gone. 

This  afternoon,  enjoying  good  saddle  horses  over  the 
Louisson  ground,  to  us  the  hilly  roads,  the  woods,  the  very 
air,  were  so  like  those  of  our  own  hill  country  that  a  pang 
of  homesickness  was  felt  by  both.  As  if  to  further  the 
illusion,  at  dinner-time  Nature  furnished  a  violent  earth- 
quake, albeit  our  first  of  volcanic  origin.  We  were  making 
very  jolly  over  dessert  and  the  thick  black  coffee,  when 
the  house  seemed  seized  in  an  angry  grasp  and  shaken  like 
a  gigantic  rat.  I  never  did  like  earthquakes,  and  the 


OUR  HAWAII  241 

April  eighteenth  disaster  which  we  two  saw  through  in 
Glen  Ellen  and  San  Francisco  has  not  strengthened  my 
nerve.  Jack,  with  expectant  face,  remained  in  his  seat; 
but  I,  as  the  violence  augmented,  stood  up  and  reached  for 
his  hand,  vaguely  wondering  why  every  one  did  not  run 
for  the  outside.  The  frame  building  seemed  yielding  as  a 
basket  —  purposely  erected  that  way.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  tremor,  the  cook  and  his  kokua  had  come  quietly  into 
the  room  and  held  the  lamps ;  and  when  the  second  shock 
was  heard  grinding  through  the  mountain  Mr.  Abe,  wish- 
ing us  to  have  the  full  benefit  of  the  harmless  diversion, 
rose  dramatically,  black  eyes  burning  and  arms  waving, 
and  cried : 

"Here  it  comes !  Listen  to  it !  It's  coming !  Hear  it ! 
Fed  it!" 

And  come  it  did,  but  more  mildly.  After  we  were  in 
bed  there  was  one  light  shock,  accompanied  by  a  distant 
rumbling  and  grinding  in  this  last  living  island  of  the 
group. 

Of  course,  our  first  thought  following  upon  the  immediate 
excitement  of  the  shake  was  of  the  volcanoes.  Would 
Kilauea,  which  had  this  long  time  dwindled  to  a  breath 
of  smoke,  recrudesce?  A  telephone  to  Hilo  brought  no 
report  of  any  activity.  The  initial  attempts  to  use  the 
wire  were  ludicrous  failures,  for  every  Mongolian  and 
Portuguese  of  the  thousands  on  Hawaii  was  yapping  and 
jabbering  after  his  manner,  and  the  effect  was  as  of  a 
rising  and  falling  murmur  of  incommunicable  human  woe, 
broken  here  and  there  by  a  sharper  or  more  individual  note 
of  trouble.  A  white  man's  speech  carried  faintly  in  the 
unseen  Babel. 

LOUISSONS'  TO  HILO,  Friday,  September  6,  1907. 

In  the  perfumed  damp  cool  of  morning  we  bade  farewell 
to  the  hospitable  bachelors,  and  descended  once  more  from 


242  OUR  HAWAII 

V 

the  knees  of  Mauna  Kea  to  its  feet  upon  the  cliffs.  The 
world  was  all  a-sparkle  from  glinting  mountain  brow  above 
purple  forest  and  thick  shining  cloud-ring,  down  the  dewy 
undulating  lap  of  rustling  cane,  to  the  dimpling  sea  that 
ruffled  its  edges  against  the  bold  coast.  Trees,  heavy  with 
overnight  rain,  shook  their  sun-opals  upon  us  from  leaf 
and  branch,  and  little  rills  tinkled  across  the  road  that 
leads  to  the  main  drive.  The  air  was  filled  with  bird-songs, 
and  in  our  hearts  there  was  also  something  singing  for  very 
gladness. 

Thus  far,  in  all  our  junketing,  we  have  relied  for  the 
most  part  upon  saddle  horses  and  railroad  trains,  or  private 
conveyances  of  one  sort  or  another.  Long  stretches  en- 
dured in  back  seats  of  wagons  have  never  appealed.  But 
to-day's  journeying,  in  the  middle  seat  of  three,  luggage 
strapped  on  behind  the  four-in-hand  stage,  was  a  unique 
and  profitable  experience,  furnishing  an  excellent  chance 
to  observe  the  labor  element.  For  we  traveled  in  company 
with  members  of  its  various  branches  —  Hawaiian,  Portu- 
guese, Japanese,  and  all  the  other  breeds,  and  no  dull 
moment  was  ours. 

The  only  seam  in  the  day's  pleasant  fabric  was  the  un- 
failing, incomprehensible,  heart-rending  want  of  sym- 
pathy with  animals  displayed  by  the  Japanese.  Jack, 
boiling  with  the  stupid  blindness  of  drivers  and  passengers, 
spluttered  and  fumed  and  made  most  uncomplimentary 
remarks  when  we  overtook  a  heavy  vehicle,  packed  ten- 
strong  with  placid  Asiatics,  male  and  female,  which  a 
pair  of  half-starved,  undersized  horses  were  unable  to  budge, 
on  a  steep  ascent  hub-high  in  a  muddy  landslide  caused 
by  the  earthquake.  It  had  not  occurred  to  one  single 
immobile-faced  human  of  them  to  ease  the  load.  But 
when  Jack,  with  much  expressive  arm-flailing  of  the  air, 
had  relieved  his  just  exasperation,  all  but  the  women  were 
on  the  ground,  and  the  pitiable  team  was  able  to  forge 
ahead. 


OUR  HAWAII  243 

Needless  to  say,  the  sons  of  Nippon  did  not  relish  this 
interference,  and  there  was  glowering  in  our  direction. 
" Scowls  don't  buy  them  anything!"  Jack  settled  back 
in  his  seat,  feeling  much  calmer.  "What  they  need  on 
this  island  is  Rose  Davison!"  For  all  his  admiration  of 
the  Japanese,  he  is  in  a  state  of  eternal  protest  against 
their  thoughtless  incomprehension  of  animals ;  and  in  remi- 
niscences of  days  with  General  Kuroki's  army  in  Korea, 
the  treatment  of  horses  seems  to  remain  his  most  vivid 
memory,  especially  in  the  matter  of  leaving  to  die  by  the 
roadside  those  which  broke  their  legs  on  the  icy  march, 
or  were  otherwise  injured,  instead  of  putting  them  out  of 
their  misery.  Fortunately  for  the  pleasure  of  his  journey 
to-day,  one  of  our  relay  drivers  was  a  genial  Portuguese, 
who  proved  a  very  good  whip  as  well  as  an  interesting 
guide  through  the  country. 

The  overcrowding  was  ludicrous.  At  some  stop  on  the 
way,  a  bevy  of  Japanese  would  swarm  into  the  stage  with- 
out first  a  "look-see"  to  find  if  it  was  already  full,  literally 
piling  themselves  upon  us.  Jack,  determinedly  extricating 
them  and  holding  firmly  to  his  seat,  would  say  with  laugh- 
ing eyes  and  smiling-set  lips,  while  he  thrust  his  big  shoulders 
this  way  and  that:  "Gee!  I  like  to  look  at  them,  but 
they'd  camp  on  us  if  we'd  let  them !" 

Ever  a  good  "mixer,"  he  is  yet  almost  finicky  about 
undue  familiarity  from  what  he  chooses  to  term  "lesser 
breeds,"  although  his  association  with  them  is  entirely 
without  offense.  There  is  a  streak  in  him,  not  of  snob- 
bery, but  of  a  sort  of  physical  aristocraticness  founded 
upon  a  wrell-considered  philosophy.  Very  exclusive  in  the 
matter  of  personal  articles,  he  thinks  it  a  waste  of  valu- 
able time  to  perform  any  menial  office  for  himself  when  he 
can  employ  some  one  else  to  do  it,  and  is  seldom  without 
a  body-servant,  at  home  or  abroad. 

"I'd  rather  be  learning  from  the  books  than  tying  shoe- 
laces or  pressing  trousers,"  elucidates  he ;  and  he  likes  me 


244  OUR  HAWAII 

to  apply  the  same  reasoning.  "How  can  you  and  I  be 
continually  sharing  the  endless  books  and  ideas,  if  you  are 
going  to  spend  your  time  with  feather-dusters  and  brooms 
and  cookery?  There  are  specialists  for  everything.  You 
and  I  are  joysmiths,  and  we  specialize  in  ideas ;  let  others 
specialize  in  their  chosen  fields.  —  No,  I  am  not  going  to 
carve.  I  am  never  going  to  carve.  I  prefer  to  talk,  and 
listen.  I  pay  the  servants  in  the  kitchen  to  do  the  carv- 
ing. 7  carve,  /  wash  the  dishes,  /  cook  —  by  earning  the 
money,  through  my  own  specialty,  which  I  have  chosen, 
to  pay  others  to  do  that  branch  of  my  work." 

He  has  come  to  appreciate  that  a  growing  sprig  of  French 
embroidery  in  my  fingers  does  not  interfere  with  my  mental 
development  the  while  I  sit  beneath  his  teaching  (and  he  is 
always  teaching  —  it  is  the  breath  of  his  body),  and  has 
ceased  to  regard  with  disfavor  my  scrap  of  fine  linen  and 
weaving  needle  —  because,  forsooth,  he  loves  my  fine 
raiment,  and  is  ever  impatient  of  any  coarseness  in  its 
texture  or  workmanship.  Ah,  well,  an  attempt  to  set 
down  his  kaleidoscopic  personality  can  result  only  in  seem- 
ing paradox.  He  is  so  many,  infinitely  many,  things ;  and 
there  is  no  paradox  in  him,  to  one  fortunate  enough  to  be 
able  to  divine  the  just  whole  of  his  rounded  universality. 

The  only  compromise  he  made  with  the  overreaching 
coolie  tide  was  to  take  into  our  seat  a  sad  little  Porto 
Rican  cripple,  a  mere  child  with  aged  and  painwrought 
face,  whom  the  passengers,  of  whatsoever  nationality, 
shunned  because  of  the  bad  repute  of  his  blood  in  the 
Islands ;  and  also  a  sunny  small  daughter  of  Portugal, 
glorious-eyed  and  bashfully  friendly.  When  presented  with 
a  big  round  dollar,  "a  cartwheel,"  Jack  called  it,  she  an- 
swered maturely,  to  his  query  as  to  how  she  would  squander 
it,  a  laconic : 

"School  shoes." 

Shades  of  striped  candy !  How  did  her  mother  accom- 
plish it?  Now,  the  shrinking  Porto  Rican  lad  hobbled 


OUR  HAWAII  245 

straight  into  a  fruit  store  at  the  next  halt,  reappeared  laden 
with  red-cheeked  imported  apples,  and  with  transfigured 
face  of  gratitude,  held  up  his  treasure  for  us  to  share. 
Jack,  with  moist  eyes,  bit  his  lip.  So  much  for  one  Porto 
Rican  in  Hawaii.  One  would  like  to  know  his  mother,  too. 

Jack,  whose  mind  grasps  the  scheme  of  a  cooperative 
commonwealth  above  all  need  for  humbling  charity  from 
easeful  lords  of  capital,  nevertheless  has  a  right  hand  that 
expresses  the  tenderness  of  his  heart,  and  lets  not  his  left 
hand  know.  The  happiest  thing  in  his  happy,  interesting 
journey  was  the  turning  inside-out  of  his  loose-silver  pocket ; 
and  I  am  not  sure  that  the  thong  was  not  pulled  on  that 
long  slender  chamois  gold-sack  he  has  carried  since  Klon- 
dike days.  Even  I,  somewhat  in  the  relation  of  his  left 
hand,  do  not  know  all  he  gave  to  the  beatific  babies  who 
accompanied  us  this  long  day's  ride. 

Isabella  Bird  Bishop  has  painted  an  immortal  word- 
picture  of  the  gulches  of  Windward  Hawaii  in  the  Hilo 
District  —  giant  erosions  of  age-old  cloud-floods,  their 
precipitous  sides  hidden  in  a  savage  riot  of  vegetation,  heavy 
with  tropic  perfume.  And  this  day,  swinging  through  and 
beyond  the  coffee  and  cane  of  the  Hamakua  District  that 
adjoins  the  Kona,  following  the  patient  grades  along  the  steep 
faces  of  these  stupendous  ravines,  descending  to  bridges 
over  glorious  streams  that  began  and  ended  in  waterfalls 
(" Build  the  road  and  bridge  the  ford!"  Jack  quoted 
rapturously),  we  remembered  how  she,  long  before  any 
bridging  of  these,  forded  on  horseback  these  same  turbu- 
lent water-courses,  swollen  by  freshets,  at  the  risk  of  her 
precious  life.  For  she  was  possessed  of  the  joy  of  existence, 
that  woman,  as,  unescorted  in  a  period  when  few  women 
braved  traveling  alone,  she  ventured  ocean  and  island  and 
foreign  continent,  writing  as  vividly  as  she  lived. 

Only  fleeting  glimpses  we  had  of  the  coast  —  sheer  green 
capes  overflung  with  bursting  waterfalls  that  dropped 
rainbow  fringes  to  meet  the  blue-and-white  frills  of  surf. 


246  OUR  HAWAII 

" Bearded  with  falls,"  to  quote  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  is 
this  bluffwise  coast  of  the  Big  Island,  and  we  envied  the 
Snark's  crew  who  from  seaward  had  viewed  the  complete 
glory,  from  surf  to  mountain  head. 

Laupahoehoe,  "leaf  of  lava,"  in  the  simple  poesy  of  the 
ancient  Hawaiian,  is  the  name  of  a  lovely  native  village 
on  a  long  low  outthrust  at  the  mouth  of  a  wide  ravine. 
Weather-softened  old  houses  as  well  as  grass  huts  stray 
its  dreamy  length,  under  coco  palms  etched  against  the 
horizon ;  and  the  natives  seem  to  have  no  business  but  to 
bask  beneath  the  blue-and-gold  sky.  One  lovely  thumb- 
sketch  we  glimpsed,  where  a  river  frolicked  past  a 
thatched  hut  under  a  leaning  coco  palm,  near  which  a 
living  bronze  stood  motionless  —  a  rare  picture  in  modern 
Hawaii. 

Laupahoehoe,  Hakalau,  Onomea  —  we  passed  them  all, 
and  toward  the  end  of  day  our  absurd  four-in-hand  of 
gritty  little  mules  trotted  into  a  splendid  red  boulevard/ 
Just  as  we  had  settled  our  cramped  limbs  to  enjoy  the  un- 
wonted evenness  of  surface,  the  driver  pulled  up  in  Wainaku, 
a  section  of  suburban  Hilo,  before  a  seaward-sloping  green- 
sward terrace  fanned  by  a  " Travelers'  palm"  under  which 
grazed  a  rain-wet,  golden-coated  mare.  Here,  upon  a 
word  sent  ahead  by  mutual  friends,  this  time  the  May- 
dwells,  we  were  again  to  know  the  hospitality  of  perfect 
strangers — an  unequaled  hospitality  combined  of  European 
and  Polynesian  ideals  by  the  white  peoples  who  have  made 
this  country  their  own. 

On  the  steps  of  an  inviting  lanai  room  stood  a  blue-eyed 
lady-woman,  sweet  and  cool  and  solicitous,  with  three  lovely 
children  grouped  about  her  slender,  blue-Princess-gowned 
form  —  a  Chicago  girl  whose  husband,  William  T.  Balding, 
holds  an  important  position  with  the  Waiakea  Sugar  Com- 
pany, whose  mill  purrs  all  hours  at  Wainaku  by  the  sea. 

Refreshed  by  a  bath,  and  arrayed  in  preposterously 
wrinkled  ducks  and  holoku  out  of  tight-packed  suit  cases, 


(i)  Waikiki,  1915:  Mr.  and  Mrs.  London  (Center);  Mr.  A.  H.  Ford  (Right). 
(2)  A  Fragment  of  Paradise  —  Coconut  Island,  Hilo.  (3)  Jack.  (4)  Rain- 
bow Falls,  Hawaii. 


OUR  HAWAII  247 

we  dined  exquisitely  in  an  exquisite  dining-room  hung  with 
fern  baskets,  the  table  sparkling  with  silver  and  cut-glass, 
the  napery  worthy  of  a  glass  show-case,  and  served  by  the 
ever-lovely  adopted  butterfly-maid  of  Japan.  Will  Balding, 
blue-eyed,  clear  featured,  and  dark-haired,  is  the  perfect 
complement  of  his  fair-tressed  wife,  and  Jack's  last  words, 
as  he  fell  asleep  early  under  the  snowy  netting,  were : 
"A  pair  of  thoroughbreds." 

SHIPMANS'  VOLCANO  HOME,  HAWAII, 

Saturday,  September  7,  1907. 

Away  back  in  1790  or  thereabout,  an  American  fur- 
trader  named  Metcalf,  commanding  the  snow  Eleanor, 
visited  the  Sandwich  Islands  on  his  way  to  the  Orient,  his 
son,  eighteen  years  of  age,  being  master  of  a  small  schooner, 
Fair  American,  which  had  been  detained  by  the  Spaniards 
at  Nootka  Sound. 

A  plot  was  hatched  by  some  of  the  chiefs  to  capture  the 
Eleanor,  and  was  frustrated  by  Kamehameha,  who  him- 
self boarded  her  and  ordered  the  treacherous  chiefs  ashore. 
Following  this,  a  high  moi  of  Kona  was  insulted  and 
thrashed  with  a  rope's-end  by  Captain  Metcalf  for  some 
trifling  offense,  and  vowed  vengeance  upon  the  next  vessel 
that  should  come  within  his  reach. 

The  snow  Eleanor  crossed  the  Hawaii  Channel  to  Honu- 
aula,  Maui,  where  a  chief  of  Olowalu  with  his  men  one 
night  stole  a  boat  and  killed  the  sailor  asleep  in  it, 
afterward  breaking  up  the  boat  for  the  nails.  Metcalf 
set  sail  for  Olowalu,  where,  under  mask  of  trading  with  the 
natives,  he  turned  loose  a  broadside  of  cannon  into  the 
flock  of  peaceful  canoes  surrounding  the  Eleanor,  strewing 
the  water  with  dead  and  dying. 

After  this  uncalled-for,  wanton  massacre  of  innocent 
islanders,  Metcalf  returned  to  Hawaii,  and  lay  on  and  off 
Kealakekua  Bay  waiting  for  the  Fair  American,  which  had 


248  OUR  HAWAII 

by  now  arrived  off  Kawaihae,  on  the  sea-boundary  of  the 
present  Parker  Ranch,  which  we  had  glimpsed  when  we 
passed  through. 

Chief  Kameeiamoku  went  out  with  a  fleet  of  canoes  as 
if  to  trade,  and  when  the  eighteen-year-old  skipper  of  the 
Fair  American  was  off  his  guard,  threw  him  outboard  and 
dispatched  the  crew  with  the  exception  of  Isaac  Davis,  the 
mate. 

Simultaneously,  John  Young,  the  original  Young  of 
Hawaii,  found  himself  detained  ashore,  and  all  canoes 
under  tabu  by  orders  of  Kamehameha,  in  order  that  Met- 
calf  should  not  hear  of  the  loss  of  his  son  and  the  schooner. 
The  Eleanor  continued  lying  off  and  on,  firing  signals,  for 
a  couple  of  days,  and  finally  sailed  for  China. 

John  Young  and  Isaac  Davis  were  eventually  raised  by 
Kamehameha  to  the  rank  of  chiefs,  endowed  with  valuable 
tracts  of  land,  and  they  in  turn  lent  the  great  moi  their 
service  of  brain  and  hand  in  council  and  war,  although 
carefully  guarded  for  years  whenever  a  foreign  vessel 
hove  in  sight. 

Small  cannon,  looted  from  the  Fair  American  as  well  as 
other  vessels  which  had  been  "cut  out,"  were  of  priceless 
value  in  the  experienced  hands  of  the  white  men  in  en- 
abling Kamehameha  eventually  to  win  his  war  of  conquest, 
especially  over  the  Maui  armies  under  the  sons  of  Kahekili. 

All  of  which  is  preamble  to  the  pleasant  fact  that  we  are 
enviable  guests  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  H.  Shipman,  of  Hilo, 
at  their  volcano  house,  and  Mrs.  Shipman  is  the  grand- 
daughter of  the  gallant  Isaac  Davis.  Also  we  find  she 
is  half-sister  to  our  friend  Mrs.  Tommy  White.  Such  a 
healthy,  breezy  household  it  is;  and  such  a  wholesome, 
handsome  brood  of  young  folk,  under  the  keen  though  in- 
dulgent eye  of  this  motherly,  deep-bosomed  woman  whose 
three  fourths  British  ancestry  keeps  firm  vigilance  against 
undue  demonstration  of  the  ease-loving  strain  of  wayward, 
sunny  Polynesian  blood  she  has  brought  to  their  dowry. 


OUR  HAWAII  249 

And  the  tropic  wine  in  her  veins  has  preserved  her  from 
all  age  and  decay  of  spirit.  During  this  day  and  evening 
I  have  more  than  once  failed  to  resist  my  desire  to  lay  my 
tired  head  upon  her  breast,  where  it  has  been  made  amply 
welcome. 

A  social  and  domestic  queen  is  Mrs.  Shipman,  and  right 
sovranly  she  reigns  over  her  quiet,  resourceful  Scotch 
spouse,  whose  pride  in  her  efficient  handling  of  their  family 
twinkles  in  his  contented  blue  eye.  And  though  models 
of  discipline  and  courtesy,  their  offspring  are  brimming  with 
hilarious  humor,  while  of  ttimes  their  mother's  stately,  silken- 
holokued  figure  is  the  maypole  of  their  dancing,  prancing 
romp.  Those  holokus  are  the  care  of  the  two  elder  daugh- 
ters, who  never  tire  of  planning  new  variations  of  pattern 
and  richness,  with  wondrous  garniture  of  lace  and  em- 
broidery. 

Mrs.  Shipman  —  and  again  we  are  in  Kakina's  debt  — 
had  telephoned  Mrs.  Balding  to  extend  an  invitation  to 
this  suburban  home  near  the  volcano;  and  according  to 
arrangement  Jack  and  I  met  her  on  the  up-mountain  train 
from  Hilo  to  the  terminal  station,  where  the  Shipman 
carriage  and  splendid  team  conveyed  us  ten  miles  farther 
to  this  high  house  in  a  garden  smothered  in  tree-ferns. 

Jack  preceded  me  into  town,  as  he  had  Snark  business  — 
as  well  as  difficulties  —  to  attend  to ;  and  Mrs.  Balding 
drove  me  up  later  for  my  first  glimpse  of  Hilo,  the  second 
city  of  the  Territory,  on  its  beautiful  site  at  the  feet  of 
Mauna  Loa,  one  of  the  prettiest  island  towns  one  could 
wish  to  see,  divided  by  two  rivers,  the  Wailuku  tearing  its 
way  down  a  deep  and  tortuous  gorge.  Nothing  could  be 
more  impressive  than  Hilo's  background  of  steadily  rising 
mountain  of  cane  and  forested  and  twisted  lava-flow.  The 
rivers  are  spanned  by  steel  bridges,  and  the  main  streets 
are  broad  and  clean  and  shaded  by  enormous  trees,  with 
many  branching  lanes  overarched  by  blossoming  foliage  and 
hedged  with  vines  and  shrubbery.  Captain  Vancouver,  that 


250  OUR  HAWAII 

thoroughgoing  benefactor  of  Polynesia,  saw  the  possibilities 
of  this  port  (once  called  after  Lord  Byron,  brother  of  the 
poet,  who  nearly  a  century  ago  dropped  the  anchor  of  his 
frigate  Blonde  in  the  offing,  and  surveyed  the  bay  as  well 
as  the  Volcano  Kilauea) ,  for  he  wrote : 

"Byron  Bay  will  no  doubt  become  the  site  of  the  capital  of  the 
island.  The  fertility  of  the  district  of  Hilo,  .  .  .  the  excellent  water, 
and  abundant  fish  pools  which  surround  it,  the  easy  access  it  has  to 
the  sandal  wood  district,  and  also  to  the  sulphur,  which  will  doubt- 
less soon  become  an  object  of  commerce,  and  the  facilities  it  affords 
for  refitting  vessels,  render  it  a  place  of  great  importance. " 

At  the  second  station  out  of  Hilo,  near  the  main  wharf, 
where  we  could  just  see  the  dear  little  Snark  moored,  the 
train  was  boarded  by  the  dwindling  Snarkites,  the  captain 
and  Martin  —  and  our  disgruntled  engineer,  who  could  not 
conform  to  ship  discipline,  who  came  to  bid  me  good-by. 
Tochigi,  unable  to  overcome  his  relentless  seasickness, 
already  sorely  missed  by  us,  had  sailed  for  San  Francisco. 

The  little  observation-car  was  filled  with  well-to-do  Hilo 
residents  bound  for  the  week-end  at  their  volcano  lodges, 
and  I  could  see  Jack  planning  two  more  homes  on  his 
lengthening  list. 

To  Kilauea,  at  last,  at  last  —  my  first  volcano,  albeit  a 
more  or  less  disappointing  Kilauea  these  days,  without 
visible  fire,  the  pit,  Halemaumau,  only  vouchsafing  an 
exhibition  of  sulphurous  smoke  and  fumes.  But  live 
volcano  it  is,  and  much  alive  or  little,  does  not  greatly 
matter.  Besides,  one  may  always  hope  for  the  maximum, 
since  Kilauea  is  notoriously  capricious. 

For  eighteen  miles  the  track  up  from  Hilo  slants  almost  im- 
perceptibly, so  gradual  is  the  ascent  through  dense,  tropical 
forest,  largely  of  tree  ferns,  and,  latterly,  dead  lehua  over- 
spread with  parasitic  ferns  and  creepers.  There  seems  no 
beginning  nor  end  to  the  monster  island ;  and  despite  the 
calm,  vast  loveliness  of  many  of  its  phases,  one  cannot 


OUR  HAWAII  251 

help  thinking  of  it  as  something  sentient  and  threatening, 
and  of  the  time  when  it  first  heaved  its  colossal  back  out 
of  the  primordial  slime.  And  it  is  still  an  island  in  the 
making. 

The  carriage,  sent  up  the  day  before  from  Hilo,  was 
driven  by  one  Jimmy,  a  part-Hawaiian,  part-Marquesan 
grandson  of  Kakela,  the  Hawaiian  missionary  to  the  Mar- 
quesas group,  whose  intervention  saved  Mr.  Whalon,  mate 
of  an  American  vessel,  from  being  roasted  and  eaten  by 
the  cannibals  of  Hiva-oa.  Jimmy's  grandfather  was  re- 
warded by  the  personal  gift  of  a  gold  watch  by  Abraham 
Lincoln,  in  addition  to  a  sum  of  money  from  the  American 
Government.  "And  don't  forget,  Mate,"  Jack  reminded 
me,  "your  boat  is  next  bound  to  the  Marquesas  !" 

It  was  a  hearty  crowd  Mrs.  Shipman  served  at  dinner; 
and  imagine  our  smacking  delight  in  a  boundless  stack 
of  ripe  sweet  corn-on-the-cob  mid-center  of  the  bountiful 
table  !  Among  all  manner  of  Hawaiian  staples  and  delica- 
cies, rendered  up  by  sea  and  shore,  we  found  one  new  to  us 
—  stewed  ferns.  Not  the  fronds,  mind,  but  the  stalks 
and  stems  and  midribs.  Served  hot,  the  slippery,  suc- 
culent lengths  were  not  unlike  fresh  green  asparagus.  The 
fern  is  also  prepared  cold,  dressed  as  a  salad.  Jack  thinks 
we  might  utilize  our  California  brakes  when  we  are  home 
again. 

The  father  of  his  flock  rode  in  late  from  his  own  great 
cattle  ranch,  Puuoo,  on  Mauna  Kea.  The  flock  as  well 
as  its  maternal  head  rose  as  one  to  make  their  good  man 
comfortable  after  his  long  rough  miles  in  the  saddle.  In 
a  crisp  twilight,  the  men  smoked  on  the  high  lanai,  and 
the  rest  of  us  breathed  the  invigorating  mountain  air.  It 
was  hard  to  realize  the  nearness  of  this  greatest  of  living 
volcanoes.  Presently  Jack  and  I  became  conscious  of 
an  ineffably  faint  yet  close  sound  like  "the  tiny  horns  of 
Elfland  blowing."  Crickets,  we  thought,  although  puz- 
zled by  an  unwontedly  sustained  and  resonant  note  in 


Ol'K    HA\\.\ll 

the  diminutive   bugling.     Ar.d  \ve  \vere  informed,  whether 
seriously  I  know  not,  that  the  fairy  music  proceeded 
landshells  lAelutindla),  wUAgnnvon  leavta  ami  bark  of 
trees,  some  800  species  being  known.    Certainly  there  are 
more  things  in  earth  and  heaven  —  and  these  harm, 
pixie  conches,  granting  it  was  they,  connoted  the 
origin.    Jack's  eyes  and  mouth  were  t 

l  ha'e  ma  doots,"  he  softly  warned;  "but  I  hope 
.1   l.vndshell  oivhestra.  dear  Kid.  beeause  the  fancy  gives 
you  so  much  pleasure." 

Sunday.  September  8.  1007. 

Kilauea,  "The  Only/9  has  a  just  right  to  this  distin- 
guished interpretation  of  its  name,  for  it  conforms  : 
preconceived  idea  of  what  a  conventional  volcano  si-. 
be.    Not  by  any  stretch  of  imagination  is  it  conical ;  and  it 
fails  by  some  nine  thousand  feet  of  being,  compared  with 
the  thkteen-odd-thousand-f oot  peak  on  the  side  of  which 
it  lies,  a  mountain  summit;  its  crater  is  not  a  bowl  of 
whatsoever  oval  or  circle;  nor  has  it  ever,  but  oru 
human  knowledge,  belched  stone  and  ashes — a  hur 
and  fifty  years  ago  when  it  wiped  out  the  bulk  of  a  hostile 
army  moving  against  Kamehameha's  hordes,  thus  piv 

:c   :V.e  .-.::  ,v:v^:i:-    ,'hu:    ;:v.i    iV.e    luvUless    Tele,  who 

dwells  in  the  House  of  Everlasting  Fire,  Halemaumau, 
was  on  his  side. 

Different  from  Mauna  Loa's  own  lofty  crater,  which  has 
inundated  Hawaii  in  nearly  every  direction,  Kilauea,  a  vent 
in  Mauna  Loa's  side,  never  overflows,  but  holds  within  itself 
its  content  of  molten  rock.  The  vertical  walls,  from  100  to 
TOO  feet  high,  inclose  nearly  eight  miles  of  flat,  collapsed 
floor  containing  2650  acres;  while  the  active  pit,  a  great 
well  some  1000  feet  in  diameter,  is  sunk  in  this  main  level. 

In  the  forenoon  we  visited  the  Volcano  House  on  the 
yawning  lip  of  the  big  crater,  and  sat  before  a  great  stone 


OUR  HAWAH  253 

fireplace  in  the  older  section,  where  Isabella  Bird  and  many 
another  wayfarer,  including  Mark  Twain,  once  toasted 
their  toes  of  a  nipping  night  in  the  yesterdays. 

From  the  hotel  lanai  we  looked  a  couple  of  miles  or  so 
across  the  sunken  lava  pan  to  Halemaumau,  from  which  a 
column  of  slow,  silent,  white  smoke  rose  fike  a  genie  out 
of  underworld  Arabian  Nights,  and  floated  off  in  the  light 
air  currents.  No  fire,  no  glow —  only  the  ghostly,  vapor- 
ous smoke.  And  this  inexorable  if  evanescent  banner  of 
the  sleeping  mountain  has  abundant  company  in  myriad 
lesser  streamers  from  hot  fissures  all  over  the  red-brown 
basin  surrounding  it,  while  the  higher  country,  green  or 
arid,  shows  many  a  pale  spiral  of  steam. 

Rheumatic  invalids  should  thrive  at  the  Volcano  House, 
for  this  natural  steam  is  diverted  through  pipes  to  a  bath- 
house where  they  may  luxuriate  as  in  a  Turkish  establish- 
ment ;  and  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  them  from  lying  all 
hours  of  the  day  near  some  chosen  hot  crack  in  the  brilliant 
red  earth  that  sulphurous  steam  has  incrusted  with  sparkling 
yellow  and  white  crystals. 

Having  arranged  with  the  genial  Mr.  Demosthenes, 
(keek  proprietor  of  this  as  well  as  the  pretty  HDo  Hotel, 
for  a  guide  to  the  pit  later  on,  Mrs.  Shipman  directed  her 
coachman  farther  up  Mauna  Loa  —  the  "up"  being  hardly 
noticeable  —  to  see  living  as  well  as  dead  koa  forest,  and 
the  famous  "tree  molds."  Some  prehistoric  lava-flow  an- 
nihilated the  big  growth,  root  and  branch,  cooling  rapidly 
as  it  piled  around  the  trees,  leaving  these  hollow  shafts 
that  are  exact  molds  of  the  consumed  trunks. 

The  fading  slopes  of  Mauna  Loa,  whose  still  active  crater 
is  second  in  size  only  to  KHauea's,  beckoned  alluringly  to 
us  lovers  of  saddle  and  wilderness.  One  cannot  urge  too 
insistently  the  delusive  eye-snare  of  Hawaii's  heights,  be- 
cause an  elastic  imagination  ^  rxjui  \  i  unfitly  on  the  stretch, 
is  needful  to  realize  the  true  proportions.  To-day,  only  by 
measuring  the  countless  distant  and  more  distant  forest 


254  OUR  HAWAII 

belts  and  other  notable  features  on  the  incredible  moun- 
tain side  could  we  gain  any  conception  of  its  soaring  vasti- 
tude. 

For  a  time  the  road  winds  through  green,  rolling  plains 
studded  with  gray  shapes  of  large,  dead  trees,  and  then 
comes  to  the  sawmills  of  the  Hawaii  Mahogany  Company. 
Here  we  went  on  foot  among  noble  living  specimens  of  the 
giant  koa,  which  range  from  sixty  to  eighty  feet,  their 
diameters  a  tenth  of  their  height,  with  wide-spreading 
limbs  —  beautiful  trees  of  laurel-green  foliage  with  moon- 
shaped,  leaf-like  bracts.  It  was  in  royal  canoes  of  this 
acacia,  often  seventy  feet  in  length,  hollowed  out  of  these 
mighty  boles,  that  Kamehameha  made  his  conquest  of  the 
group,  and  by  means  of  which  his  empire-dreaming  mind 
planned  to  subdue  the  Society  Islands.  As  a  by-product, 
the  koa  furnishes  bark  excellent  for  tanning  purposes. 

Great  logs,  hugely  pathetic  in  the  relentless  grasp  of 
man-made  machinery,  were  being  dragged  out  by  steel 
cable  and  donkey-engine,  and  piled  in  enormous  and  in- 
creasing heaps.  Jack,  who  is  inordinately  fond  of  fine 
woods  if  they  are  cut  unshammingly  thick  and  honestly, 
left  a  good  order  with  Mr.  Kant,  the  manager  on  the 
ground,  for  certain  generous  table-top  slabs  to  be  seasoned 
from  logs  which  we  chose  for  their  magnificent  grain  and 
texture. 

In  addition  to  their  flourishing  koa  business,  these  mills 
are  turning  out  five  hundred  ohia  lehua  railroad  ties  per 
day,  and  filling  orders  from  the  States.  But  one  can  easily 
predict  a  barren  future  for  the  forests  of  Hawaii  if  no 
restraint,  as  now,  is  enforced  in  the  selection  of  trees. 

In  the  bright  afternoon,  mounted  on  the  Shipmans' 
saddle  horses,  with  our  Hawaiian  guide  we  made  descent 
into  Kilauea,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Bruce  Cartwright,  Jr., 
a  Honolulan  acquaintance  whom  Jack  greatly  admires  —  a 
big,  frank-eyed  young  fellow,  whose  clean  ambition  is  to 
attend  Yale  University,  particularly  for  the  forestry  courses. 


OUR  HAWAII  255 

The  morning's  cursory  view  had  been  no  preparation  for 
the  beautiful  trail,  on  which  we  were  obliged  to  brush  aside 
green  tree-branches  and  ferns  and  berry  bushes  in  order 
to  see  the  cracking  desolation  of  the  basin.  Abruptly 
enough,  however,  we  debouched  upon  its  floor,  under  the 
stiff  wall  we  had  descended,  now  towering  hundreds  of  feet 
overhead.  Before  us  lay  a  crusted  field  of  reddish  dull- 
gold,  where  whiffs  and  plumes  of  white  steam  rose  near  and 
far  from  awesome  fissures  —  a  comfortless  waste  without 
promise  of  security,  a  treacherous  valley  of  fear,  of  lurk- 
ing hurt,  of  extermination  should  a  foot  slip. 

On  a  well-worn  pathway,  blazed  in  the  least  dangerous 
places,  we  traversed  the  strange,  hot  earth-substance.  The 
horses,  warily  sniffing,  seemed  to  know  every  yard  of  the 
way  as  accurately  as  the  tiny  Hawaiian  guide.  But  we 
recalled  Christian  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow,  for  at  every 
hand  yawned  pitfalls  large  and  small  and  most  fantastic  — 
devilish  cracks  issuing  ceaseless  scalding  menace,  broken 
crusts  of  cooled  lava-bubble,  jagged  rents  over  which  we 
hurried  to  avoid  the  hot,  gaseous  breath  of  hissing  subter- 
ranean furnaces. 

Now  and  then  the  guide  requested  us  to  dismount,  lead- 
ing, crawling,  into  caverns  of  unearthly  writhen  forms  of 
pahoehoe  lava  —  weirdly  beautiful  interiors  —  bubbles  that 
had  burst  redly  in  the  latest  overflow  of  Halemaumau 
into  the  main  crater.  On  through  the  uncanny,  distorted 
lavascape  cautiously  we  fared  under  a  cloud-rifted  sky,  and 
finally  left  the  horses  in  a  small  corral  of  quarried  lava, 
thence  proceeding  afoot  to  the  House  of  Fire. 

Perched  on  the  ultimate,  toothed  edge,  we  peered  into  a 
baleful  gulf  of  pestilent  vapors  rising,  forever  rising,  light 
and  fine,  impalpable  as  nightmare  mists  from  out  a  pit  of 
destruction.  Only  seldom,  when  the  slight  breeze  stirred 
and  parted  the  everlasting,  unbottled  vapors,  were  we 
granted  a  fleeting  glimpse,  hundreds  of  feet  below  on  the 
bottom  of  the  well,  of  the  plummetless  hole  that  spills 


256  OUR  HAWAII 

upward  its  poisonous  breath.  If  the  frail-seeming  ledge 
on  which  we  hung  had  caved,  not  one  of  us  could  have 
reached  bottom  alive  —  the  deadly  fumes  would  have 
done  for  us  far  short  of  that. 

A  long,  long,  silent  space  we  watched  the  phenomenon, 
thought  robbed  of  definiteness  by  our  abrupt  and  absolute 
removal  from  the  blooming,  springing,  established  world 
above  the  encircling  palisade  of  dead  and  dying  planetary 
matter.  Jack's  contribution,  if  inelegant,  was  fit,  and  with- 
out intentional  levity : 

"A  hell  of  a  hole,"  he  pronounced. 

Pele,  Goddess  of  Volcanoes,  with  her  family,  constituted 
a  separate  class  of  deities,  believed  to  have  emigrated  from 
Samoa  in  ancient  days,  and  taken  up  their  abode  in  Moana- 
lua,  Oahu.  Their  next  reputed  move  was  to  Kalaupapa, 
Molokai,  thence  to  Haleakala,  finally  coming  to  rest  on 
the  Big  Island.  In  Halemaumau  they  made  their  home, 
although  stirring  up  the  furies  in  Mauna  Loa  and  Hualalai 
on  occasion,  as  in  1801,  when  unconsidered  largess  of  hogs 
and  sacrifices  were  vainly  thrown  into  the  fiery  flood  to 
appease  the  huhu  goddess.  Only  the  sacrifice  of  a  part  of 
Kamehameha's  sacred  hair  could  stay  her  wrath,  which 
cooled  within  a  day  or  two. 

Many,  doubtless,  have  there  been  of  great  men  and 
women  in  the  Polynesian  race ;  but  the  fairest  compliment 
to  the  greatest,  Kamehameha,  seems  indisputably  to  have 
been  that,  flower  of  spiritual  bravery,  Kapiolani,  a  high 
princess  of  Hawaii,  who  performed  what  is  accounted  one 
of  the  greatest  acts  of  moral  courage  ever  known  —  equal 
to  and  even  surpassing  that  of  Martin  Luther.  A  woman 
of  lawless  temperament,  her  imperious  mind  became  inter- 
ested in  the  tenets  of  Christianity,  and  swiftly  she  blos- 
somed into  a  paragon  of  virtue  and  refinement,  excelling 
all  the  sisterhood  in  her  intelligent  adoption  of  European 
habits  of  thought  and  living. 

Brooding  over  the  unshakable  spell  of  Pele  upon  her 


OUR  HAWAII  257 

people,  in  defiance  of  their  dangerous  opposition,  as  well 
as  that  of  her  husband,  Naihe,  the  national  orator,  she 
determined  to  court  the  wrath  of  the  Fire  Goddess  in  one 
sweeping  denunciation  and  renunciation. 

It  was  almost  within  our  own  time,  in  1824,  when  she 
set  out  on  foot  from  Kaawaloa  on  Kealakekua  Bay,  a 
weary  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  to  Hilo.  Word  of  the 
pilgrimage  was  heralded  abroad,  so  that  when  she  came  to 
Kilauea,  one  of  the  missionaries,  Mr.  Goodrich,  was  already 
there  to  greet  her.  But  first  the  inspired  princess  was 
halted  by  the  priestess  of  Pele,  who  entreated  her  not  to 
go  near  the  crater,  prophesying  certain  death  should  she 
violate  the  tabus.  Kapiolani  met  all  argument  with  the 
Scripture,  silencing  the  priestess,  who  confessed  that  ke 
akua,  the  deity,  had  deserted  her. 

Kapiolani  proceeded  to  Halemaumau,  where  in  an  im- 
provised hut  she  spent  the  prayerful  night;  and  in  the 
morning,  undeserted  by  her  faithful  train  of  some  fourscore 
persons,  descended  over  half  a  thousand  feet  to  the  "Black 
Ledge,"  where,  in  full  view  and  heat  of  the  grand  and 
terrifying  spectacle  of  superstitious  veneration,  unflinchingly 
she  ate  of  the  votive  berries  theretofore  consecrate  to  the 
dread  deity.  Casting  outraging  stones  into  the  burning 
lake,  she  fearlessly  chanted : 

"Jehovah  is  my  God! 
He  kindled  these  fires ! 
I  fear  thee  not,  Pele ! 
If  I  perish  by  the  anger  of  Pele, 
Then  Pele  may  you  fear ! 
But  if  I  trust  in  Jehovah,  who  is  my  God, 
And  he  preserve  me  when  violating  the  tabus  of  Pele", 
Him  alone  must  you  fear  and  serve  1 " 

Tears  were  in  our  eyes  to  vision  how  this  truly  glorious 
soul  then  knelt,  surrounded  by  the  bowed  company  of 
the  faithful,  in  adoration  of  the  Living  God,  while  their 
mellow  voices,  solemn  in  the  supreme  exaltation,  rose  in 


258  OUR  HAWAII 

praise.  We  cannot  help  wondering  if  Mr.  Goodrich,  fortu- 
nate enough  to  experience  such  epochal  event,  was  able, 
over  and  above  its  moral  and  religious  significance,  to 
sense  the  tremendous  romance  of  it. 

Scarcely  less  illuminating  was  the  conversion  of  that 
remarkable  woman,  Kaahumanu,  favorite  wife  of  Kame- 
hameha,  to  whom  I  have  already  referred  as  one  of  the 
most  vital  feminine  figures  in  Polynesian  annals.  Far 
superior  in  intellect  to  most  of  the  chiefs,  she  had  been 
created  regent  upon  the  demise  of  her  husband,  ruling  with 
an  iron  will,  haughty  and  overbearing. 

At  first  disdainful  of  the  missionaries,  finally  her  in- 
terest was  enlisted  in  educational  matters,  whereupon  with 
characteristic  abandon  she  threw  herself  into  the  learning 
of  the  written  word  as  well  as  the  spoken.  An  extremist 
by  nature,  born  again  if  ever  was  human  soul,  from  1825  to 
her  death  in  Manoa  Valley,  Honolulu,  in  June  of  1832, 
she  held  herself  dedicate  to  the  task  of  personally  spread- 
ing virtue  and  industry  throughout  the  Islands.  Her  last 
voyage  was  to  pay  a  visit  to  Kapiolani,  after  which  she 
lived  to  receive  the  fourth  reenforcement  of  American 
missionaries,  who  arrived  in  the  Averick  a  month  before 
her  passing ;  and  the  crowning  triumph  of  her  dying  hours 
was  the  first  complete  copy  of  the  New  Testament  in  the 
Hawaiian  tongue.  Alexander  writes : 

"...  Her  place  could  not  be  filled,  and  the  events  of  the  next  few 
years  (of  reaction,  uncertainty,  and  disorder  in  internal  affairs) 
showed  the  greatness  of  the  loss  which  the  nation  had  sustained. 
The  '  days  of  Kaahumanu '  were  long  remembered  as  days  of  progress 
and  prosperity." 

And  yet,  according  to  all  research,  the  ancient  Hawaiians 
were  essentially  a  religious  people  according  to  their  ideals. 
Almost  every  important  undertaking  was  led  by  prayer  to 
widely  diverse  gods,  unfortunately  not  all  beneficent.  The 
"  witch  doctor/7  or  kahuna,  exerting  a  disastrously  powerful 


OUR  HAWAII  259 

influence  in  all  phases  of  racial  development,  has  not  to 
this  day  entirely  ceased  to  blight  the  imaginations,  to  the 
actual  death,  of  certain  classes.  " Praying  to  death"  is 
the  most  potent  principle  of  kahunaism,  and  in  the  past 
played  an  important  part  in  holding  down  the  population 
of  the  never-too-prolific  race.  One  prayer  alone,  related 
at  length  by  Dr.  J.  S.  Emerson,  enumerates  some  eleven 
methods  of  causing  death  to  any  subject  selected,  and  il- 
lustrates the  unsleeping  brain  and  artistry  of  the  sorcerers, 
"assassins  by  prayer,"  who  invented  it.  Still,  kahunas 
were  not  an  altogether  enviable  faction  in  the  past,  since 
on  occasion  they  employed  their  own  mental  medicine 
against  one  another.  A  certain  class  of  these  "  metaphysi- 
cians," as  Jack  dubs  them,  bore  a  reputation  of  being  "more 
like  evil  spirits  than  human  beings,"  so  feared  and  hated  that 
their  practices  constituted  a  boomerang,  resulting  in  their 
being  stoned  to  death. 

All  the  foregoing,  and  more,  we  lazily  discussed  at  length 
on  the  precarious  shelf  in  Pele's  mansion,  although  often 
speech  was  interrupted  by  sulphur  fumes  that  blinded  and 
suffocated.  And  when  we  climbed  into  the  pure  air,  Jack 
and  I  agreed  that  even  in  the  quiescent  mood  of  its  least 
spectacular  aspect,  Kilauea  is  more  than  well  worth  a  long 
voyage  to  behold. 

At  the  Volcano  House,  Mr.  Demosthenes  led  the  way  to 
his  guest  book  in  the  long  glass  sun-room,  and  showed 
many  celebrated  autographs,  reaching  back  into  the  years. 
Jack,  upon  request,  added  his  own  sprawling,  legible 
signature  that  always  seems  so  at  variance  with  his 
small  hand.  Our  joint  contribution  was  as  follows,  with 
Jack  leading  off : 

"'It  is  the  pit  of  hell,' I  said. 

"'Yes/  said  Cartwright.  'It  is  the  pit  of  hell.  Let 
us  go  down.' 

" '  And  where  Jack  goes,  there  go  I.'  So  I  followed  them 
down." 


260  OUR  HAWAII 


Next  Day. 


This  blue  and  crystal  morning,  despite  the  pleasant 
bustle  of  packing  for  the  return  to  Hilo,  Mrs.  Shipman 
was  found  seated  sumptuously  amidst  cut  flowers  of  her 
own  tender  care,  weaving  crisp  leis  for  our  shoulders  and 
hats.  This  in  itself  was  not  surprising;  but  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  she  was  to  accompany  our  departure,  it  seemed 
the  very  acme  and  overflow  of  hospitality;  and  Jack, 
gazing  upon  this  mother-of-many,  his  eyes  brimming  with 
appreciation,  muttered  under  his  breath :  "  Mate — isn't  she 
wonderful?"  Later,  after  a  thoughtful  pause  in  his  writ- 
ing, he  broke  out :  "To  me,  Mother  Shipman  is  the  First 
Lady  of  Hawaii!" 

To  the  garlands  were  added  necklaces  of  strung  berries, 
bright  blue  and  hard  as  enamel,  and  strands  of  tiny  round 
rosebuds,  exquisite  as  pale  corals  from  Naples.  It  was  a 
custom  in  less  strenuous  years  to  present  these  plant-gems 
laid  in  jewel  cases  of  fresh  banana  bark  split  lengthwise, 
the  inside  of  which  resembles  nothing  so  well  as  mother- 
of-pearl.  Can  anything  lovelier  be  imagined  ? 

And  so,  wreathed  in  color  and  perfume,  we  dropped  down 
the  fragrant  mountain,  ourselves  a  moving  part  of  the 
prevalent  luxuriance  of  blossom  and  fern  and  vine.  One 
mile  is  as  another  for  unspoiled  beauty,  although  turns  in 
the  magical  pathway  open  up  pictures  that  surpass  beauty 
if  this  may  be.  Great  trees,  living  or  dead,  their  weird 
roots  half  above  ground,  form  hanging  gardens  of  strange 
flowers  and  tendrilly  things  imagined  of  other  planets  or 
the  pale  dead  moon.  Giant  ferns,  their  artificial-look- 
ing pedestals  set  inches-deep  in  moss  on  fallen  trunks, 
crowd  the  impenetrable,  dank  undergrowth.  Climb- 
ing-palms net  the  forest  high  and  low  with  fantastic 
festoons,  and  star  the  glistening  wildwood  with  point- 
petaled  waxen  blossoms  of  rich  burnt-orange  luster,  while 
the  decorative  ie-ie  sets  its  rust-colored  candelabra  on 


OUR  HAWAII  261 

twisted  trunk  and  limb.  If  you  never  beheld  else  in  all 
Hawaii  Nei,  the  Volcano  Road  would  impress  a  memory  of 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  journeys  of  a  lifetime.  Of  the 
thirty  miles,  the  twenty  nearest  to  Hilo  wind  through  this 
virgin  forest  garden,  into  the  picturesque  outskirting  lanes 
of  the  old  town. 

When  the  carriage  left  the  bridge  that  crosses  Wailuku's 
roaring  gorge  into  the  Shipmans'  driveway  to  their  castle- 
white  mansion  overlooking  Hilo,  a  pair  of  white-gowned 
daughters,  brunette  Clara,  and  Caroline  tawny-blonde, 
ran  to  meet  mother  and  father  and  younger  ones  as  if  from 
long  absence,  and  lo,  also  Mary,  now  Mrs.  English,  who 
proved  to  be  an  old  classmate  of  Jack's  in  the  Oakland 
High  School.  Behind  them,  Uncle  Alec,  another  hale 
example  of  Hawaii's  beneficence  to  the  old,  stood  apple- 
cheeked  and  smiling  under  his  thatch  of  vital,  frosty  hair, 
and  joined  in  a  welcome  that  seemed  to  seal  us  forever 
their  very  own. 

BALDINGS',  WAINAKU,  Sunday,  September  15,  1907. 

We  did  it !  we  did  it !  And,  as  so  often  happens,  the 
giddy  experience  came  through  a  remembered  suggestion 
of  Mr.  Ford,  who  has  long  wished  to  coast  the  cane-flumes 
of  the  Big  Island.  Jack  made  a  tentative  bid  to  the 
Baldings  for  this  rather  startling  entertainment,  and  the 
pair,  "good  fellows"  to  their  ringer  tips,  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  the  idea,  which,  however,  was  not  altogether  new 
to  them. 

One  of  the  flimsy  aqueducts  runs  just  beyond  their  rear 
fence,  on  the  seaward  slope,  and  any  week-day  we  can 
follow  with  our  eyes  the  loose  green  faggots  slipping  noise- 
lessly toward  the  toothed  maw  of  the  sugar  mill,  the  whistle 
of  which  marks  the  working  hours  of  its  employees. 

To  the  right  is  a  gulch,  crossed,  perhaps  two  hundred 
feet  in  air,  by  the  flume's  airy  trestle;  and  over  this,  in 


262  OUR  HAWAII 

swimming-suits,  a  merry  party  of  us  essayed  the  narrow 
footboard  that  accompanies  the  flume  elbow  high  at  one's 
side. 

Each  had  his  or  her  own  method  of  preserving  balance, 
mental  and  bodily,  above  the  unsettling  depths.  Jack 
sustained  his  confidence  by  letting  one  hand  slide  lightly 
along  the  edge  of  the  flume,  with  the  result  that  his  palm, 
still  calloused  from  the  Snares  ropes,  picked  up  an  un- 
noticed harvest  of  finest  splinters  that  gave  us  an  hour's 
patient  work  to  extract.  My  system  was  first  deliberately 
to  train  my  eyes  on  the  receding  downward  lines  to  the 
tumbling  gulch-stream,  and  at  intervals,  as  I  walked,  to 
touch  hand  momentarily  to  the  flume.  Martin,  debonair 
stranger  to  system  of  any  sort  under  any  circumstances, 
paced  undaunted  halfway  across,  and  suddenly  fell  exceeding 
sick,  grasping  the  waterway  with  both  hands  until  the 
color  flowed  back  into  his  ashen  face. 

The  wooden  ditch  is  just  wide  enough  in  which  to  sit 
with  elbows  close,  and  the  water  flows  rapidly  on  the  gentle 
incline.  If  one  does  not  sit  very  straight,  he  will  find  him- 
self progressing  on  one  hip,  and  probably  get  to  laughing 
beyond  all  hope  of  righting  himself.  With  several  persons 
seated  say  a  hundred  yards  apart,  the  water  is  backed  up 
by  each  so  that  its  speed  is  much  decreased,  and  there  is 
little  difficulty  in  regulating  your  movements  and  what- 
ever speed  is  to  be  had  —  and  mind  the  nails !  Lying 
supine,  feet-foremost,  arms-under-head,  the  maximum  is 
obtained ;  sit  up,  and  it  slackens. 

The  ride  was  great  fun,  and,  safely  on  the  ground  once 
more  at  our  starting  point,  Jack  was  so  possessed  with  the 
sport  that  he  telephoned  to  Hilo  for  " hacks"  to  convey 
us  a  mile  or  so  up  the  road  to  a  point  where  the  flume 
crosses.  A  laughable  crowd  were  we :  the  men,  collarless, 
in  overcoats  on  top  of  their  dripping  suits,  the  women  also 
in  wet  garments  under  dry  ulsters. 

In  a  sweltering  canefield,  Mr.  Balding  directed  the  bind- 


OUR  HAWAII  263 

ing  of  small,  flat  bundles  of  the  sweet-smelling  sugar 
stems,  and  still  with  the  fear  of  nails,  however  smoothed 
and  flattened,  strong  upon  us,  remembering  tragical  cellar- 
doors  of  childhood,  we  embarked  upon  our  sappy  green 
rafts. 

Just  fancy  lying  on  your  back,  the  hour  near  sunset,  in 
a  tepid  stream  of  clear  mountain  water,  sliding  on  under 
the  bluest  of  blue  skies  with  golden-shadowed  clouds, 
breathing  the  sun-drenched  air;  then  lifting  slowly,  to 
glance,  still  moving  and  strangely  detached,  over  the  edge, 
to  canefields  far  beneath  and  stretching  from  mountain- 
forest  to  sea  rim;  picking  out  rocky  watercourses,  toy 
bridges  and  houses,  and  Lilliputian  people  going  about  their 
business  on  the  green  face  of  earth ;  while  not  far  distant 
a  gray-and-gold  shower-curtain,  rainbow-tapestried,  blows 
steadily  to  meet  you  in  mid-air,  tempering  the  vivid  blues 
and  greens  of  sea  and  sky  and  shore.  In  the  void  between 
ourselves  and  the  shimmering  green  earth,  ragged  bundles 
of  cane,  attached  to  invisible  wires,  drawn  as  by  a  spell 
toward  the  humming  sugar  mill  at  sea-rim,  looked  for  all 
the  world  like  fleeing  witches  on  broomsticks,  with  weird 
tattered  garments  straight  behind.  You  glide  in  an  at- 
mosphere of  fantasy,  "so  various,  so  beautiful,  so  new,"  in 
which  every  least  lovely  happening  is  the  most  right  and 
natural,  no  matter  how  unguessed  before. 

Over-edge  and  on  the  ground  again,  at  exactly  the  proper 
spot  to  obviate  feeding  one's  shrinking  toes  into  the  sugar 
mill  machinery,  one  can  only  think  of  a  longer  ride  next 
time  —  which  Jack  is  planning  to  the  tune  of  a  ten-mile- 
away  start. 

Belike  our  latest  skipper  is  a  better  man  at  sea  than 
ashore.  Certain  rumors  lead  us  to  this  hazard.  Early 
in  his  employment  by  Jack,  I  had  taken  him  aside  in 
Honolulu,  and  outlined  what  Jack  had  been  through  during 
the  post-earthquake  building  and  first  sailing  of  the  Snark. 
In  voice  quivering  with  emotion,  and  with  moist  eyes,  he 


264  OUR  HAWAII 

implored  me  to  harbor  no  doubt  that  he  would  devote  the 
coming  years  to  making  our  voyage  the  success  it  deserved 
to  be,  et  cetera.  "Mrs.  London,"  he  said,  "believe  my 
word  when  I  tell  you,  now,  that  if  I  don't  take  the  Snark 
around  the  world,  and  back  through  the  Golden  Gate  into 
San  Francisco  Bay,  it  will  be  because  I  am  dead !" 

Perhaps  a  professional  sailor  is  always  "a  sailor  ashore" ; 
and  doubtless  the  captain  has  by  now  read  my  easy-going 
husband  well  enough  to  know  that  he  will  not  be  left  to 
settle  the  personal  bills  incurred  in  Hilo  over  and  above 
his  salary. 

SHIPMANS',  HILO,  Monday,  October  7,  1907. 

To-morrow  the  dream-freighted  Snark,  carrying  only 
three  of  her  initial  adventurers,  Jack,  Martin,  and  myself, 
sails  from  Hilo  for  the  Marquesas  Islands  lying  under  the 
Line,  toward  which  Jack's  sea-roving  spirit  has  yearned 
from  boyhood,  since  first  he  devoured  Melville's  tale, 
"Typee,"  of  months  detained  in  the  cannibal  valley  on 
Nuka-Hiva.  And  soon,  by  the  favor  of  wind  and  current, 
we  shall  drop  our  modern  patent  hook  in  Melville's  very 
anchorage  at  Taiohae  Bay,  which  was  also  that  of  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson's  Casco  in  later  years;  and  together  we 
shall  quest  inland  to  Typee  Vai. 

Besides  the  captain,  there  is  a  new  Dutch  sailor,  Herr- 
mann de  Visser,  delft-blue  of  eye,  and  of  a  fair  white-and- 
pinkness  of  skin  that  no  lifetime  of  sea-exposure  has 
tarnished.  The  berth  of  the  sorely  regretted  Tochigi  is 
occupied  by  a  brown  manling  of  eighteen,  Yoshimatsu  Na- 
kata,  a  moon-faced  subject  of  the  Mikado  who  speaks,  and 
kens  not,  but  one  single  word  of  English,  same  being  the 
much  overtaxed  Yes ;  but  his  blithesome  eagerness  to  cover 
all  branches  of  the  expected  service  promises  well.  Martin 
has  been  graduated  from  galley  into  engine-room ;  and 
Wada,  a  Japanese  chef  of  parts,  bored  with  routine  of 
schooner  schedule  between  San  Francisco  and  Hilo,  is  in 


OUR  HAWAII  265 

charge  of  our  "Shipmate"  range  and  perquisites  in  the 
tiny,  under-deck  galley. 

Jack  had  confidently  assumed,  after  four  months'  re- 
pairing in  Honolulu,  that  the  new  break  in  the  seventy- 
horse-power  engine  could  easily  be  mended,  and  that  in  a 
week  or  ten  days  at  most  we  might  resume  the  long-delayed 
voyage.  But  alas,  as  fast  as  one  weakness  was  dealt  with 
another  appeared,  until  even  that  long-suffering  patience 
which  Jack  displays  in  the  larger  issues,  was  worn  to  a 
thread,  and  at  times  I  could  see  that  he  was  restless  and 
unhappy.  Nevertheless,  he  worked  doggedly  at  the  novel, 
missing  no  forenoon  at  his  table  behind  a  screen  on  the 
lanai  of  the  Shipmans'  high  house,  where  we  came,  follow- 
ing the  visit  with  our  friends  at  Wainaku.  But  too  often 
I  could  sense  the  strain  he  was  under,  and  ached  to  see 
drawn  lines  around  his  mouth  and  a  blue  wanness,  like 
shadows  on  snow,  beneath  his  eyes. 

Among  other  exasperating  discoveries,  the  cause  of  a 
hitherto  unaccountable  pounding  of  the  engine  was  found 
to  lie  in  an  awryness  of  the  bronze  propeller  blades,  prob- 
ably sustained  at  the  time  the  yacht  was  allowed  to  fall 
through  the  inadequate  ways  in  the  shipyard  at  San  Fran- 
cisco. This  corrected,  something  else  would  go  wrong, 
until  we  became  soul-sick  of  sailing-dates  and  hope  deferred. 

One  day,  packed  and  ready  for  an  early  departure,  Jack, 
who  had  answered  the  telephone  ring,  called  that  the 
captain  wanted  to  talk  to  me.  As  I  passed  him,  Jack 
whimsically  remarked:  "I  hope  it  isn't  something  so 
bad  he  doesn't  want  to  break  it  to  me!" 

It  was  precisely  that,  and  the  captain's  opening  words 
made  me  swallow  hard  and  brace  for  the  worst:  "Mrs. 
London  ...  I  couldn't  tell  him.  ...  I  couldn't  do  it. 
.  .  .  You  can  do  anything.  But  after  all  he  has  had  to 
bear  lately,  I  just  simply  couldn't  break  it  to  him." 

Some  day  I  may  learn  that  in  Snark  affairs  nothing  is 
too  dreadfully  absurd  nor  absurdly  dreadful  to  occur. 


266  OUR  HAWAII 

Jack  had  such  difficulty  in  getting  the  ill  tidings  out  of 
me,  and  I  myself  was  so  cast  down,  that  the  information 
savored  strongly  of  anti-climax  when  finally  I  told  him 
that  the  five-horsepower  engine  had  fractured  its  bedplate, 
and  the  repairs  would  hold  the  Snark  in  port  at  least  a 
week  longer.  This  engine  and  the  big  one  are  of  different 
makes  and  were  built  in  different  parts  of  the  United 
States ;  and  yet  each  had  been  set  in  a  flawed  bedplate ! 
Jack  was  forced  to  laugh.  "I  see  these  things  happen, 
but  I  don't  believe  them!"  he  repeated  an  old  remark. 
How  much  of  despair  there  was  in  his  mirth  I  had  no  way 
of  knowing ;  but  when  he  went  into  town  to  inspect  the 
latest  wreckage,  he  was  called  upon  to  cheer  his  own  men, 
for  the  captain  met  him  with  tears,  and  Martin  was  dis- 
covered lying  face-down  on  his  bed.  We  named  no  more 
sailing-dates  for  a  while — until  to-day,  when  almost  we  be- 
lieve we  shall  get  away  to-morrow  at  two  o'clock ;  and  in 
our  cool  bathroom  lie  the  farewell  leis,  of  roses,  and  violets, 
maile  and  ginger,  that  the  Shipman  girls,  entirely  undis- 
couraged  by  the  fact  of  more  than  one  withered  supply, 
have  already  woven. 

In  face  of  Snark  annoyance,  our  more  than  kind  friends 
have  seemed  to  redouble  their  efforts  to  beguile  us  from 
the  not  unreasonable  fear  of  outstaying  our  welcome. 
Always  the  carriage  is  at  our  disposal,  and  beautiful 
saddlers,  one  of  which,  Hilo,  coal-black,  possessed  of  all 
the  docile  fire  of  the  young  horse,  is  our  especial  delight ; 
and  for  love  of  him  we  have  written  the  ranch  foreman  at 
home  to  give  this  name  to  the  newest  colt,  which  is  also 
black. 

One  day  the  girls  have  taken  us  horseback  to  see  where 
the  latest  lava-flow  encroached  to  within  five  miles  of  the 
town,  threatening  to  engulf  it.  This  having  been  in  1881, 
the  inhabitants  must  have  thought  Mother  Shipton's 
notorious  prophecy  was  coming  to  pass. 


OUR  HAWAII  267 

Another  fine  afternoon,  to  Rainbow  Falls  we  rode,  toward 
which  no  photograph,  nor  even  painting,  can  do  justice, 
because  the  approach  is  impossible  to  the  use  of  lens  or 
brush.  One  rides  peacefully  along  a  branch  trail  from  the 
road,  when  unexpectedly,  into  a  scene  that  has  hinted  no 
chasm  or  stream,  there  bursts  a  cataract  of  the  Wailuku, 
eighty  feet  of  it,  into  a  green  shaft  lined  with  nodding 
ferns,  where  the  fall,  on  a  rainless  day,  sprays  its  deep  pool 
with  rainbows. 

There  came  a  day  of  "Hilo  rain,"  when  Mrs.  Shipman 
tucked  us  into  the  curtained  rig  and  haled  us  about  town 
to  observe  an  example  of  what  the  burdened  sky  can  do 
in  this  section.  Since  the  Hiloites  must  endure  the  violent 
threshing  of  crystal  plummets  of  their  overburdened  sky, 
they  make  of  it  an  asset.  The  annual  rainfall  is  150  inches 
against  Honolulu's  35  on  the  lee  side  of  Oahu.  And  we 
must  see  Rainbow  Fall,  now  an  incredibly  swollen,  sounding 
young  Niagara  born  of  the  hour.  Chaney  wrote :  "  It  rains 
more  easily  in  Hilo  than  anywhere  else  in  the  known  world. 
.  .  .  We  no  longer  demurred  about  the  story  of  the 
Flood.  .  .  .  Let  no  man  be  kept  from  Hilo  by  the  stories 
he  may  hear  about  its  rainfall.  Doubtless  they  are  all 
true ;  but  the  natural  inference  of  people  accustomed  to 
rain  in  other  places  is  far  from  true.  There  is  something 
exceptional  in  this  rain  of  Hilo.  It  is  never  cold,  hardly 
damp  even.  They  do  say  that  clothes  will  dry  in  it.  It 
is  liquid  sunshine,  coming  down  in  drops  instead  of  at- 
mospheric waves.  .  .  .  Laugh  if  you  will,  and  beg  to  be 
excused,  and  you  will  miss  the  sweetest  spot  on  earth  if 
you  do  not  go  there."  And  that  is  Hilo. 

Aboard  the  Snark,  Monday,  October  7,  1907. 

Half-past  one,  and  early  aboard.  With  the  help  of 
moon-faced,  smiling  Nakata,  all  luggage  has  been  stored 
shipshape  in  our  wee  staterooms,  and  we  await  a  few  be- 


268  OUR  HAWAII 

lated  deliveries  from  the  uptown  shops,  and  the  friends  who 
are  to  see  us  off. 

Frankly,  I  am  nervous.  All  forenoon,  doing  final  pack- 
ing, I  have  startled  at  every  ring  of  the  telephone,  appre- 
hensive of  some  new  message  of  the  Inconceivable  and 
Monstrous  quivering  on  the  wire.  And  Jack  —  has  done 
his  thousand  words  as  usual  on  the  novel ! 

He  now  stands  about  the  shining,  holystoned  deck,  un- 
consciously lighting  cigarettes  without  number,  and  as 
unconsciously  dropping  them  overboard  half-smoked  or 
dead  full-length.  He  is  not  talking  much,  but  nothing  of 
the  spick-and-span  condition  of  his  boat  escapes  his  pleased 
blue  sailor  eye.  And  he  hums  a  little  air.  Over  and  above 
the  bad  luck  that  has  stalked  her  since  the  laying  of  her 
keel,  the  Snark  indubitably  remains,  as  Jack  again  assures, 
"the  strongest  boat  of  her  size  ever  built";  and  we  both 
love  her  every  pine  plank,  and  rib  of  oak,  and  stitch  of 
finest  canvas. 

Later:  We  got  over  the  good-bys  somehow  —  even 
dear  Uncle  Alec  came  to  see  us  off.  I  hope  nothing  better 
than  to  have  a  kiss  of  welcome  from  him  years  hence  when 
we  come  again  to  beautiful  Hilo,  which  means  "  New  Moon,'7 
fading  yonder  against  the  vast  green  mountain  in  a  silver 
rain,  as  I  had  his  kiss  of  parting  this  day. 

"And  there  isn't  one  of  them  ever  expects  to  lay  eyes 
on  us  again,"  Jack  said  low  to  me  as  the  captain  pulled 
the  bell  to  the  engine-room  and  Martin  started  the  bronze 
propeller,  and  the  little  white  yacht  began  to  move  out 
from  the  wharf  on  her  outrageous  voyage.  They  tried 
hard  to  look  cheerful,  dear  friends  all,  and  Mrs.  Balding's 
"Do  you  really  think  you'll  ever  come  back  alive?"  would 
have  been  funny  but  for  the  unshed  tears  in  her  violet  eyes. 
And  little  convinced  was  she,  or  any  soul  of  them,  by  Jack's 
vivid  disquisition  on  this  "safest  voyage  in  the  world." 

And   so,  waving  our  hands  and  calling   last  good-bys, 


OUR  HAWAII  269 

we  made  our  way  out  through  no  floating  isles  of  lilies,  down 
from  the  Waiakea  River's  marshes,  for  Hilo  Bay  lies  clear 
and  blue,  in  a  fair  afternoon  that  gives  promise  of  a  starry 
night.  The  captain  of  the  Bark  Annie  Johnson,  in  port,  a 
favorite  poker  antagonist  of  Jack's  the  past  week,  accom- 
panied us  a  distance  in  the  Iron  works  engineer's  launch, 
and  the  big  American-Hawaiian  freighter,  Arizonan,  un- 
loading in  the  stream,  with  a  great  sonorous  throat  saluted 
the  little  Snark,  who  answered  with  three  distinct  if  small 
toots  of  her  steam- whistle. 

A  westering  sun  floods  with  golden  light  the  city  clearing 
from  its  silver  shower,  and  we  know  that  some  at  least  of 
her  thoughts  are  with  us  happy  estrays  on  the  "white- 
speck  boat"  adventuring  the  pathless  ocean. 

And  one  beside  me  in  a  hushed  voice  repeats : 

"  '  The  Lord  knows  what  we  may  find,  dear  lass, 
And  the  deuce  knows  what  we  may  do  — 
But  we're  back  once  more  on  the  old  trail,  our  own  trail,  the  out 

trail, 
We're    down,  hull  down  on  the  long  Trail  —  the    trail  that  is 

always  new!": 

Thus,  on  our  Golden  Adventure,  we  set  out  to  sea  once 

more,  answering  its  clear  call ;  and  it  is  Good-by,  Hawaii 

—  Hawaii  of  love  and  unquestioning  friendship  without 

parallel.     Her  sons  and  daughters,  they  have  been  kind 

beyond  measure. 

Great  love  to  you,  Hawaii  —  "until  we  meet  again," 
as  you  sing  in  your  sweetest  song  of  parting  grief  and 
joyful  welcome : 

"Aloha  oe." 

JACK  LONDON,  KAMAATNA 

The  other  day  a  man  stood,  uncovered,  beside  the  red 
bowlder  that  marks  by  his  own  wish  the  ashes  of  Jack 
London,  upon  the  little  Hill  of  Graves  on  his  beloved 


270  OUR  HAWAII 

Ranch  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon.  Set  in  indestructible 
cement,  about  those  ashes  —  for  he  desired  to  rest  in  the 
ashes  rather  than  any  dust  of  him  —  are  wrapped  two 
cherished  leis  of  ilima  that  he  had  brought  withered  from 
Hawaii. 

The  man,  there  among  the  trees  of  the  whispering  ridge, 
told  me  how,  only  a  week  earlier,  he  had  been  talking 
with  a  simple  ukulele-player  in  a  Hawaiian  orchestra  at 
one  of  the  San  Francisco  theaters.  The  Hawaiian  boy 
had  spoken  haltingly,  with  emotion : 

"Better  than  anyone,  he  knew  us  Hawaiians  .  .  .  Jack 
London,  the  Story  Maker.  .  .  .  The  news  came  to  Hono- 
lulu— and  people,  they  seemed  to  have  lost  a  great  friend 
—  auwe!  They  could  not  understand.  .  .  .  They  could 
not  believe.  I  tell  you  this  :  Better  than  any  one,  he  knew 
us  Hawaiians." 

Months  before,  a  friend  wrote  from  Honolulu:  "These 
many  weeks,  when  two  or  three  who  knew  him  meet  upon 
the  street,  they  do  not  speak.  They  cannot  speak.  They 
only  clasp  hands  and  weep." 

And  another :  "Jack's  death  has  done  a  wonderful  thing. 
It  has  brought  together  so  many  of  his  friends  who  had  not 
known  one  another  before.  It  has  brought  together  even 
those  of  his  friends  who  did  not  previously  care  to  know 
one  another." 

What  sweeter  requiem  could  be  his  ? 

Could  he  only  know  —  could  the  thrill  of  this  knowledge 
only  have  been  added  to  his  "crowded  hour  of  glorious 
life"! 

It  was  not  an  easy  nor  a  quick  matter  for  Jack  London 
to  earn  his  kamaainaship.  Nor  did  he  in  any  way  beg  the 
favor.  Time  only  has  been  the  proof  whether  his  two 
masterly  stories,  "The  Sheriff  of  Kona"  and  "Koolau  the 
Leper,"  have  made  one  tourist  stay  his  foot  from  the  shores 
of  the  Hawaiian  Islands. 

And  yet,  these  stories,  sheer  works  of  art  that  had 


OUR  HAWAII  271 

nothing  to  do  with  his  visit  to  Molokai,  in  no  way  counter- 
acting, to  his  judgment,  the  admitted  benefit  of  his  article 
on  the  Settlement,  were  the  cause  of  bitter  feelings  and 
words  from  what  of  provincialism  there  was  in  Hawaii  — 
and  was  ever  island  territory  that  was  not  provincial? 
" Provincial  they  are,"  reads  a  little  penciled  note  of  his: 
"  which  is  equally  tru'e,  nay,  more  than  true,  of  New  York 
City." 

And  untrue  things  wt^e  spoken  and  printed  of  Jack. 
Erect,  on  his  " two  hind  legs"  as  was  his  wont,  he  defended 
himself.  In  the  pages  of  JLorrin  A.  Thurston's  Pacific 
Commercial  Advertiser,  following  some  ill-considered  re- 
marks of  the  editor,  Jack  a  nd  Kakina  had  it  out,  hammer 
and  tongs,  without  mincing  of  the  English,  as  good  friends 
may  and  remain  good  frk-nds.  Even  now,  it  is  with 
reminiscent  smile  of  appreciation  for  the  heated  pair  of 
them  that  I  turn  over  the  pages  of  Jack's  huge  clip- 
ping scrapbook  of  1910,  for  a  moment  forgetting  the 
grave  on  the  Little  Hill,  and  once  n^ore  live  in  memory  of 
the  brilliant  discussion  and  Jack's  o\\7i  hurt  and  indigna- 
tion that  he  should  have  been  accused  of  abusing  hospitality. 
There  is  no  space  here  for  the  published  letten" ;  and  besides, 
it  is  the  long  run  of  events  that  counts. 

Kamaaina,  desire  of  his  heart,  he  became,  iTJitil,  in  the 
end,  the  Hawaiians  offered  him  the  most  honored  name  in 
their  gift,  which  is  my  pride  forever.  In  Hawaiian,  his- 
torical events,  Kamehameha  I  was  the  only  hero"  ever 
designated 

"Ka  Olali  o  Hawaii  nui  Kuaulii  ka  moa  mahi  i  ku  i  ka  moku .." 

which  is  to  say, 

"The  excellent  genius  who  excelled  at  the  point  of  the  spear  ah1 
the  warriors  of  the  Hawaiian  Islands,  and  became  the  consolidate!  of 
the  group." 

And  to  Jack  London,  this  is  their  gift : 


272  OUR  HAWAII 

"Ka  Olali  o  kapeni  maka  kila." 

"By  the  point  of  his  pen  his  genius  conquered  all  prejudice  and 
gave  out  to  the  world  at  large  true  facts  concerning  the  Hawaiian 
people  and  other  nations  of  the  South  Seas." 

THE  FIRST  RETURK, 

And  we  came  back,  as  we  had  alwajys  known  we  should. 

The  Snark' s  voyage  ended  imtirrie]y  in  1909  —  because 
we  paid  too  little  heed  to  Dr.  E.  S.  Goodhue's  warnings 
against  "speeding  up"  in  the  tropics.  Jack's  articles, 
collected  under  the  title  of  "TK>  Cruise  of  the  Snark," 
and  my  own  book,  "The  Log  of  .he  Snark"  tell  the  story 
of  the  wonderful  traverse  as  it  as  it  attained.  To  this 
day,  friend  and  stranger  alike  occasionally  write  from  the 
South  Seas  that  the  little  Snark,  now  schooner-rigged,  has 
put  in  at  this  bay  or  that  in  the  New  Hebrides,  under  the 
flag  of  our  French  Allies  —  'Snark  Number  One  of  a  fleet 
of  Snarks  trading  and  recruiting  in  the  cannibal  isles. 

We  came  back :  and  on  r  ,e  wharf  at  Honolulu  that  morn- 
ing of  the  Matsonia's  'ir  al,  March  2,  1915,  in  the  crowd 
we  thrilled  to  mer  es  of  Gretchen  and  Albert  Water- 

house,  Harriet  an*  -in  Thurston,  dear  Miss  Frances 

Johnson,  faithfu1  _J1  of  years,  and  the  Goodhues  all, 

with  many  a/  no  had  kept  us  a-tiptoe  for  days 

aboard  s  ir  welcoming  wireless  greetings  and 

invii. 

A]»  n.t  did  much  to  mellow  the  pleasure- 

pal  Nearest  the  stringer-piece  of  the 

piei  ,u\  brown-tanned  girl  in  an  adorable 

bonnet  '  dark  eyes  searching  the  high  steamer 

rail. 

"t<  •    pretty  girl!"    exclaimed  a  voyage  ac- 

. jack's   elbow.     "Wouldn't   you    take   her 

for  ,  ,iif -white?"    Jack,  following  the  directing 

ge?  Jiusiastically  agreed  that  she  must  be  "all  of 

hay  "  and  added : 


(i)  Halemaumau,  Kilauea,  1907.     (2)  Jack  in  Kilauea.     (3)  Bedecked  with  Leis. 
(4)  Halemaumau,  1917. 


OUR  HAWAII  273 

"Furthermore,  I'll  show  you  something;  I'll  thro^  her 
a  kiss,  see?  and  I'll  bet  you  'even  money'  that  shenl  re- 
spond. Is  it  a  go?  —  you  just  watch.'7  „ 

And  the  conspicuous  wafted  caress  arresting  her  eye, 
the  voung  woman  answered  with  blown  kisses  and  /ut- 
Ktrctched  brown  arms. 

"Gee!"  was  the  awed  whisper.  "Are  they  all  like 
that?" 

It  was  Beth,  my  cousin  from  California  —  Beth  Wiley, 
who  is  as  much  or  as  little  Spanish  as  I,  but  shows  it  more. 
By  several  months  she  had  preceded  us,  and  had  become 
well-browned  by  unstinted  sunning  on  the  beach  at  Wai- 
kiki. 

The  malihini's  confusion  was  almost  pathetic  when 
Jack  introduced  "Mrs.  London's  cousin  —  I  taught  her 
to  swim  when  she  was  a  gangly  kid ! "  and  he  continued 
mischievously,  "I'll  leave  it  to  you,  Beth,  to  convince  him 
that  part  of  that  color  of  yours  has  been  acquired  since  last 
I  saw  you !" 

Tremulous  with  memory  of  those  hack-drivers  in  the 
silver  and  lilac  dawns  of  eight  years  gone,  we  entered  one 
in  the  crush  of  automobiles  outside  the  wharf's  great  sheds, 
and  proceeded  to  the  Alexander  Young  Hotel,  of  coatless 
remembrance,  for  one  night.  Kilauea  being  in  eruption, 
we  were  to  go  aboard  the  Matsonia  ^ext  day  for  the  round 
trip  to  Hilo. 

On  this  short  voyage,  for  the  first  time  from  sea  vantage, 
we  saw  the  Big  Island's  matchless  green  cliffs,  stepped  in 
dashing  surf  and  fringed  with  waterfalls,  with  Mauna 
Kea's  fair  green  knees  and  lap  of  cane  extending  into  the 
broad  belt  of  clouds  —  and,  glory  of  glories,  Mauna  Kea's 
wondrous  morning  face  white  and  still  against  the  intense 
blue  sky. 

At  Hilo,  dear  old  Hilo,  we  were  met  by  Mr.  R.  W.  Filler, 
manager  of  Mr.  Thurston's  concrete  dream  of  a  Hilo  Rail- 


274  OUR  HAWAII 

road,  over  which,  in  an  automobile  on  car  wheels,  we  made 
the  thirty-four  miles  to  Paauilo  in  the  Hamakua  District, 
and  pronounced  it  one  of  the  most  scenically  beautiful 
rail  journeys  we  had  ever  had  the  good  fortune  to  travel. 
It  was  hard  to  realize  the  accomplishment  of  these  trestles, 
one  horseshoe  of  which,  we  understood,  is  the  most  ac^t^ 
existing.  And  thus,  high  in  a  motorcar,  upon  steel  tracks, 
we  looked  fascinated  into  the  depths  of  the  same  gulches, 
unbridged  and  perilous  in  Isabella  Bird's  time,  and  labori- 
ously journeyed  by  ourselve^early  a  decade  before.  Sec- 
tions of  the  railroad,  instead  of  skirting  the  bluff  coast  line, 
run  through  passes  that  have  been  sliced  deep  through  the 
bluffs  themselves,  the  narrow  cuts  already  blossoming  like 
greenhouses. 

Reaching  the  terminal,  Paauilo,  a  pretty  spot  on  the 
seaward  edge  of  a  great  coffee  plantation,  we  lunched 
capitally  in  a  rustic  hotel,  before  starting  on  the  return. 
Part-way  back,  we  left  the  train,  at  a  station  where  kind 
Mr.  Filler  had  been  especially  urged  by  Kakina  to  have  an 
automobile  waiting  to  take  us  mauka  to  the  Akaka  Fall, 
seldom  visited  and  rather  difficult  of  access.  A  muddy 
tramp  in  a  shower  brought  us  to  the  fall  —  a  streaming 
ribbon  five  hundred  feet  long,  trailing  into  an  exquisitely 
lovely  cleft,  earth  and  rocks  completely  hidden  by  maiden- 
hair and  other  small  ferns. 

Strange  it  seemed  to  speed  over  the  old  road  into  Hilo 
in  a  "horseless  carriage,"  deeply  reminiscent  as  we  were 
of  the  four-mule  progress  of  other  days.  And  good  it  was 
to  meet  up  once  more  with  the  Baldings  and  their  half- 
grown  family,  Mrs.  Balding  dimpling  at  Jack's  reminder 
of  her  pessimism  concerning  the  Snark;  and  with  Jack's 
First  Lady  of  Hawaii,  " Mother"  Shipman,  her  curly  hair 
perhaps  more  silvery,  but  her  face  beaming  as  ever.  And 
there  was  Uncle  Alec,  smiling  only  more  mellowly ;  and  I 
received  my  welcoming  salute. 

"Is  Hilo  still  alive?"   was  one  of  Jack's  first  inquiries. 


OUR  HAWAII  275 

Whereupon  the  venerable  coal-black  horse  was  led  out, 
still  beautiful,  but  lacking  the  pawing  eagerness  of  old. 
"His  namesake  is  my  favorite  horse  on  the  Ranch  to-day," 
Jack  told  them,  tenderly  smoothing  the  nozzling  velvet 
muzzle. 

The  following  morning,  in  an  unyieldingly  new  hired 
machine,  up  mountain  we  fared,  noting  a  considerable 
lessening  of  the  forestage  along  the  route,  due  to  the  en- 
croachment of  sugar  cane.  And  in  some  of  the  cleared  areas 
we  recognized  the  familiar  'ava  plant  of  the  South  Seas. 
Still  remained  untouched  stretches,  as  of  a  dream  within 
a  dream  for  beauty,  and  again  I  could  vision  the  evanes- 
cent minarets  and  airy  spans  of  the  Palace  of  Truth  I  had 
once  liked  to  fancy  growing  before  my  eyes  in  the  delicate 
tracery  of  tropic  foliage.  Nothing  seen  in  all  the  Snark's 
coming  and  going  among  the  isles  under  the  Line  had 
surpassed  this  enchanted  wood. 

Saving  the  Volcano  for  evening,  we  spent  the  day  horse- 
back, visiting  Kilauea's  environs  of  sister  craters,  some 
still  breathing  and  others  dead  and  cold,  shrouded  in 
verdure.  Kilauea-iki,  one  of  the  nearest  to  the  Volcano 
House  and  the  new  Crater  Hotel,  is  an  8oo-foot  deep  sink, 
with  a  circumference  of  half  a  mile.  The  neighborhood 
is  pitted  with  these  void  caldrons,  and  one  could  spend 
wonderful  weeks  in  the  jungle  trails.  The  Thurstons 
have  made  a  thorough  study  of  the  region,  and  pronounce 
it  one  of  the  most  interesting  in  the  Islands.  Into  a  number 
of  the  more  important  craters  we  peered,  and  our  native 
guide  finally  led  the  way  up  Puuhuluhulu,  around  whose 
mellifluous  name  we  had  been  rolling  our  tongues  from 
Honolulu,  where  Kakina's  last  adjuration  was  not  to  miss 
a  sight  of  this  particular  blowhole. 

Leaving  the  animals  with  the  sandwich-munching  guide, 
we  carried  our  own  lunch  to  the  summit,  where,  lying  prone, 
we  ate  with  faces  over  the  edge  of  the  bewitching  inverted 
green  cone.  For  an  hour,  like  foolish  children,  we  played 


276  OUR  HAWAII 

with  our  fantasy,  planning  the  most  curious  of  all  con- 
templated Hawaii  dwellings,  this  time  in  the  uttermost 
depths  of  Puuhuluhulu's  riotous  natural  fernery,  with  a 
possible  glass  roof  over  the  entire  crater ! 

Already,  as  we  returned,  low-pressing  clouds  above  Kilauea 
were  alight  with  the  red-rose  glow  of  Halemaumau.  And 
no  remembered  volcano  of  Tana  or  Savaii  made  me  any 
less  excited  at  prospect  of  at  last  beholding  Pele's  Gargan- 
tuan boiling  well. 

Not  by  the  old  trans-basin  trail  did  we  pilgrimage  to  the 
House  of  Everlasting  Fire,  but  upon  an  automobile  road 
graded  through  stage-scenery  of  ohia  and  tree  ferns  that 
were  like  fairyland  in  the  brilliant  headlights.  One  encircles 
nearly  half  of  the  great  sink  until,  on  the  southeastern  sec- 
tion, the  road  winds  westerly  down  into  and  across  the 
floor  to  Halemaumau. 

It  was  the  weirdest  drive  I  have  ever  known ;  and  weirder 
still  it  became  when,  within  a  few  minutes'  walking  dis- 
tance of  the  pit,  the  machine,  making  for  a  walled  parking 
circle,  ran  into  a  great  waft  of  steam  like  a  tepid  pink  fog. 
Out  of  this,  or  into  it,  the  eyes  of  an  oncoming  car  took 
form,  burning  larger  and  brighter  through  the  downy 
smother,  and  safely  passing  our  own. 

A  well-defined  pathway  is  worn  in  the  gritty  lava  to  the 
southeast  edge.  Soon  we  were  settled  there  waiting  for 
the  warm  mists  to  incline  the  other  way  and  disclose  the 
disturbance  of  liquid  earth  that  we  could  hear  hissing, 
softly,  heavily,  hundreds  of  feet  beneath,  like  the  sliding 
fall  of  avalanches  muffled  by  distance  and  intervening 
masses  of  hills. 

And  then,  suddenly,  the  mist  drafted  in  a  slanting 
flight  toward  the  western  crags,  sucked  clear  of  the  inland 
sea  of  incredible  molten  solids.  Open-mouthed  we  gazed 
hundreds  of  feet  into  the  earth  and  saw  nothing  like  the 
colored  representations  of  Halemaumau,  but  a  tortured, 
crawling  surface  of  grayish  black,  like  a  mantle  thrown 


OUR  HAWAII  277 

over  slow- wrestling  Titans  in  a  fitful,  dying  struggle.  Then 
a  crack  would  show  —  not  red,  but  an  intensely  luminous 
orange  flame-color  —  a  glimpse  of  earth's  hot  blood.  As 
our  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  heaving  skin  of  the 
monstrous  tide,  they  could  follow  the  rising,  slow-flowing, 
lapsing  waves  that  broke  sluggishly  against  an  iron-bound 
shore.  And  never  a  wave  of  the  fiery  liquid  but  left  some 
of  itself  on  the  black  strand,  its  ruthless,  heavy-flung  comb 
resistlessly  imposing  coat  upon  coat  of  this  gore  of  rock  that 
cooled,  at  least  in  comparison  to  its  source,  in  its  upbuilding 
process.  Once  in  a  while  a  bubble  would  rise  out  in  the 
central  mass,  and  burst  into  a  fountain  of  intolerably 
brilliant  orange  fluid,  its  scorching  drops  fading  on  the 
heavy  black  surge. 

There  is  no  use  trying  to  tell  of  this  wonder  of  the  world. 
From  the  seduction  of  its  merest  smoke  display  to  this  deep- 
sunk  eruption  of  1915,  it  is  all  one  in  its  confounding  marvel. 

On  this  night,  when  the  first  vivid  crack  broke  the  oily 
dark  surface,  Jack,  with  a  gasp  of  delight,  seized  my  hand, 
lighted  a  match  above  it,  and  peered  closely  at  a  big  black 
opal,  precious  loot  of  Australia's  Lightning  Ridge,  that  I 
had  named  "Kilauea"  before  ever  we  saw  Pele's  colors. 
Tipping  the  stone  from  slanting  plane  to  plane,  its  blue- 
gray  dull  face  cracked  into  flaming  lines  for  all  the  world 
like  the  phenomenon  before  us  in  the  bowels  of  Mauna 
Loa  —  a  truer  replica  of  Halemaumau  than  any  painting. 

Upon  our  return,  Mr.  Demosthenes  had  the  old  guest 
book  lying  open  in  the  same  long  glass  room,  and  again  we 
read  the  page  written  years  before,  regretting  that  Bruce 
Cartwright,  Jr.,  was  not  there  with  us.  His  extraordinarily 
charming  wife,  Claire  Williams,  a  connection  of  the  Castle 
family,  we  had  come  to  know  on  this  voyage  from  San 
Francisco,  returning  from  Paris  with  her  equally  charming 
sister,  Miss  Edith.  The  Cubist-Futurist  party  that  Mrs. 
Cartwright,  Jr.,  gave  at  their  Nuuanu  home  a  few  months 
later,  on  which  her  fancy  had  been  nearly  three  years 


278  OUR  HAWAII 

working,  will  never  be  forgotten  in  Honolulu,  and  beyond 
Honolulu  by  those  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  be  bidden. 

"Be  sure,  now,  Lakana,"  had  been  another  final  behest 
of  Kakina's,  "to  call  up  Sam  Johnson  in  Pahoa,  when  you 
get  to  Hilo.  I'm  writing  him  to  expect  to  take  you  from  the 
Volcano  down  to  Puna.  He's  a  delightful  fellow.  Never 
saw  such  a  man  for  punch.  Don't  miss  seeing  him  —  and 
he's  an  immense  admirer  of  your  stuff." 

And  so,  this  next  morning,  there  arrived  at  the  Volcano 
House,  in  an  apparently  reckless  manner  of  speeding,  this 
black-eyed  Russian,  a  Samson  for  strength  of  muscle  and 
of  will,  breathing  vitality  and  abounding  health  —  once 
sailor,  ex-soldier  of  the  Regular  Army  of  the  Republic 
of  Hawaii,  retired  Colonel  of  her  National  Guard,  athlete, 
builder  of  good  roads,  born  commander  and  organizer  of 
men,  forester,  and  for  the  nonce  in  charge  of  the  Castles' 
Pahoa  Lumber  Company's  mill  in  Puna.  Incidentally, 
he  had  been  savior,  single-handed  except  for  the  assistance  of 
one  Hawaiian  youth,  of  the  entire  crew  of  the  barkentine 
Klikitat,  wrecked  on  the  rocks  above  Hilo  two  years  before, 
while  from  the  top  of  the  almost  perpendicular  bluff,  Hilo's 
population  looked  on.  This  Russian-born  American,  whose 
natal  name  was  too  much  for  the  officials  when  he  first 
came  ashore  and  applied  for  citizenship  and  enlistment 
at  Honolulu,  was  forthwith  given  the  unmusical  if  sturdy 
name  of  his  vessel;  and,  having  made  good  his  adoptive 
sobriquet,  loyally  he  has  stuck  to  it. 

The  Colonel's  exuberant  coasting  was  exhilarating  if 
rather  amazing;  but  soon  I  came  to  realize  that  he  was 
blessed  with  a  correlation  of  eye  and  brain  and  hand  that 
qualified  him  for  judicious  chancing.  They  do  relate  how, 
on  this  same  road,  he  tilted  his  machine  at  a  vicious  bull 
that  had  for  long  terrorized  the  countryside,  neatly  scoop- 
ing and  incidentally  slaying  it  upon  his  radiator. 

Nine  miles  from  Hilo,  at  the  mill  of  the  enormous  Olaa 


OUR  HAWAII  279 

Sugar  Plantation,  we  branched  off  southwest  on  the  pictur- 
esque Puna  Road,  which,  once  clear  of  certain  beautiful 
miles  of  jungle,  crosses  an  interesting  if  monotonous  desert 
of  aged  lava.  Mauna  Kea  and  her  sister  mountain  were 
good  to  us  that  day,  for  both  going  and  returning  we  had 
fair  view  of  their  snowy  springtime  summits. 

The  mill  at  Pahoa  demonstrated  to  us  how  the  forests 
of  lehua,  koa,  the  scarcer  kou,  the  ohia,  and  all  the  valuable 
timber  of  the  rich  woods  is  converted  into  merchantable 
lumber.  And  we  came  away  with  a  handsome  souvenir, 
a  precious  kou  calabash,  heavy  and  polished  like  brown 
marble,  a  product  of  the  mill. 

Pearl  Johnson,  the  Colonel's  wife,  variously  dubbed 
Pearl  of  Pahoa,  and  the  Princess  thereof,  fragile-dainty 
as  her  husband  is  husky,  might  have  stepped  out  of  the 
pages  of  Tennyson's  "  Idylls  of  the  King,"  so  ineffably  is 
she  like  one's  ideas  of  the  ladies  beloved  of  the  Knights  of 
the  Round  Table. 

After  luncheon,  they  summoned  three  sweet  part-Ha- 
waiian sisters,  the  Mundon  girls,  cultured  and  modest- 
mannered,  to  sing.  And  there,  my  initial  time  in  the  Dis- 
trict of  Puna  — scene  of  Richard  Walton  Tully's  "Bird 
of  Paradise,"  -  quite  unexpectedly  I  learned  something  of 
what  these  isles  of  the  Snark's  first  landfall  meant  to  me, 
over  and  above  my  knowledge  of  Jack's  own  undying  regard 
for  them.  For,  while  the  contralto  and  treble  of  their  lim- 
pidezzo  voices  sang  the  beloved  old  "  Sweet  Lei  Lehua," 
"Mauna  Kea,"  the  "Dargie  Hula,"  and  the  dear  heart-com- 
pelling "Aloha  oe,"  suddenly  I  fell  a-weeping,  quite  over- 
whelmed with  all  the  unrealized  pent  emotion  of  what 
I  had  seen  and  felt  the  preceding  days,  and  the  gracious 
memories  that  flooded  back  from  the  older  past. 

Once  more  at  Hilo  Harbor,  the  If  atsoniajout  in  the  stream, 
her  siren  sounding  the  warning  hour,  was  reached  by 
launch  from  the  little  oriental  waterside  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Waiakea.  Our  eyes  were  more  than  a  little  wistful  as  in 


28o  OUR  HAWAII 

memory  we  sailed  out  with  the  Snark.  But  we  did  it ! 
"With  our  own  hands  we  did  it,"  thus  Jack;  and  the 
glamorous  voyage  was  now  an  accomplished  verity, 
from  which  we  had  come  back  very  much  alive  and  un- 
jaded. 

Back  in  Honolulu,  Jack  declined  to  be  ousted  by  any 
officious  steward  from  our  stateroom  until  the  final  period 
was  dotted  to  his  morning's  ten  pages.  Eventually  he 
issued  upon  deck  almost  into  the  arms  of  Alexander  Hume 
Ford,  whom  we  were  no  end  glad  to  see,  buoyant  and  in- 
cessant as  ever,  brimful  of  deeds  for  the  advantage  of 
Hawaii  as  ever  he  had  been  of  their  visioning. 

The  first  responsibility,  not  to  be  neglected  for  a  single 
hour,  was  the  hunting  of  a  habitation  that  we  might  call 
our  own  for  the  time  being.  Beth  had  reported  the  total 
failure  of  her  exhaustive  search.  Honolulu  was  chock-a- 
block  with  tourists.  "Beginning  to  realize  what  they've 
got,"  Jack  observed  with  satisfaction,  although  a  trifle 
put  out  that  his  prophesied  appreciation  of  the  Islands 
by  the  mainlanders,  should  interfere  with  his  own  getting 
of  a  roof-shelter. 

With  Mr.  Ford  was  Mr.  Harry  L.  Strange,  a  brilliant 
young  Englishman  who  had  in  the  past  several  years 
converted  the  Honolulu  Gas  Company  into  an  efficient 
corporation  capitalized  in  seven  figures,  and  who  put  him- 
self and  his  machine  at  our  disposal  in  the  agent- visiting 
expedition.  We  learned  from  one  of  the  great  Trust  Com- 
panies that  the  Oliver  C.  Scott  cottage  on  Beach  Walk, 
a  newly  opened  residence  street  not  far  from  the  Seaside 
Hotel,  was  to  be  let  a  couple  of  months  hence,  and  we  found 
it  eminently  suitable  for  our  little  household  of  four,  for 
Beth  was  to  be  one  of  us,  and  Nakata,  as  usual,  was  our 
shadow.  And  then  we  devoted  all  our  powers  to  persuade 
the  somewhat  flustered  Mrs.  Scott  that  she  needed  an 
earlier  visit  to  the  Pan-American  Exposition  than  she  had 


OUR  HAWAII  281 

planned,  and  proceeded  to  move  in  before  she  and  her 
excellent  husband  could  change  their  minds,  while  Jack 
wirelessed  to  the  Coast  for  Sano,  our  cook.  Temporarily 
ensconced  in  the  Hau  Tree  Hotel  half  a  block  away,  Mrs. 
Scott,  still  wondering  how  they  had  consented  to  such  an 
abrupt  arrangement,  was  more  than  generous  in  lending 
every  assistance  in  the  way  of  advice  as  to  best  ways  and 
means  of  housekeeping  and  marketing. 

Not  a  day  passed  before,  in  swimming-suits,  we  walked 
down  Kalia  Road  to  the  Seaside  Hotel,  and  once  more 
felt  underfoot  the  sands  of  Waikiki.  But  such  changes 
had  been  wrought  by  sea  and  mankind  that  we  could  hardly 
believe  our  eyes,  and  needed  a  guide  to  set  us  right. 

The  sands,  shifting  as  they  do  at  irregular  periods  of 
storm,  had  washed  away  from  before  the  hotel,  leaving 
an  uninviting  coral-hummock  bottom  not  to  be  negotiated 
comfortably  except  at  high  tide,  and  generally  shunned. 
A  forbidding  sea-wall  buttressed  up  the  lawn  of  the  hotel,1 
while  the  only  good  beach  was  the  restricted  stretch  be- 
tween where  the  row  of  cottages  once  had  begun,  and  the 
Moana  Hotel. 

And  what  had  we  here?  In  place  of  those  little  old 
weather-beaten  houses  and  the  brown  tent,  the  Outrigger 
Canoe  Club  had  established  its  bathhouses,  separate  club 
lanais  for  both  women  and  men,  and,  nearest  the  water,  a 
large,  raised  dancing-lanai,  underneath  which  reposed  a  fleet 
of  great  canoes,  their  barbaric  yellow  prows  ranged  seaward. 
At  the  rear,  in  a  goodly  line  of  tall  lockers,  stood  the  many 
surf-boards,  fashioned  longer  and  thicker  than  of  yore, 
of  the  members  of  the  Canoe  Club. 

A  steel  cable,  whiskered  with  seaweed,  anchored  midway 
of  the  beach,  extended  several  hundred  yards  into  deeper 
water  where  a  steel  diving-stage  had  been  erected,  and  upon 
it  dozens  of  swimmers,  from  merest  children  to  old  men, 

1  At  this  writing,  1917,  the  sands  are  again  level  with  the  seawall,  shoal- 
ing as  far  as  the  diving-stage,  rendered  useless  for  lack  of  deep  water. 


282  OUR  HAWAII 

were  making  their  curving  flights  inside  the  breakers. 
Several  patronesses  of  the  Club  give  their  time  on  certain 
days  of  the  week,  from  the  women's  lanai  inconspicuously 
chaperoning  the  Beach. 

Actually,  the  only  landmark  recognizable  was  the  date- 
palm  still  flourishing  where  had  once  been  a  corner  of  our 
tent-house,  now  become  a  sheltering  growth  with  yard- 
long  clusters  of  fruit,  and  we  were  told  it  was  known  as  the 
"Jack  London  Palm."  For  it  might  be  said  that  in  its 
shadow  Jack  wove  his  first  tales  of  Hawaii. 

And  all  this  progress  meant  Ford !  Ford !  Ford !  Every- 
where one  turned  evidence  of  his  unrelaxing  brain  met  the 
eye.  But  he,  in  turn,  credits  Jack  with  having  done  incal- 
culably much  toward  bringing  the  splendid  Club  into  exist- 
ence, by  his  article  on  surf-board  riding,  "  A  Royal  Sport." 
Largely  on  the  strength  of  the  interest  it  aroused,  Mr.  Ford 
had  been  enabled  to  keep  his  word  to  Jack  that  he  would 
make  surf -boarding  one  of  the  most  popular  pastimes  in 
Hawaii.  Upon  his  representations  the  Queen  Emma 
estate,  at  a  lease  of  a  few  dollars  a  year,  to  be  contributed 
to  the  Queen's  Hospital,  which  her  Majesty  had  estab- 
lished, had  set  aside  for  the  Club's  use  this  acre  of  ground, 
which,  with  the  enthusiastic  revival  of  surf-boarding,  was 
now  become  almost  priceless. 

Queen  Emma  was  the  wife  of  Kamehameha  IV,  mother 
of  the  beautiful  "Prince  of  Hawaii,"  who  died  in  child- 
hood, herself  granddaughter  of  John  Young,  and  adopted 
daughter  of  an  English  physician,  Dr.  Rooke,  who  had 
married  her  aunt,  Kamaikui.  The  Queen  owned  this  part 
of  the  Beach,  from  which  her  own  royal  canoes  were 
launched  in  the  good  old  days,  and  where  she  also  used 
the  surf-board. 

"Her  estate  holds  this  land,"  Ford  had  said  in  1907, 
"and  I'm  going  to  secure  it  for  a  Canoe  Club.  I  don't 
know  how;  but  I'm  just  going  to."  And  Jack,  when 
writing  "A  Royal  Sport,"  was  not  unmindful  of  the  kokua 


OUR  HAWAII  283 

(assistance)  it  might  possibly  prove  in  bringing  about 
Ford's  ambition  for  Waikiki.  So  keen  had  our  friend  been 
on  the  trail,  that  we  had  half  wondered  how  soon  we  should 
be  turned  out  of  our  Seaside  quarters  to  make  room  for 
lumber  and  carpenters ! 

And  Fred  Church  —  is  he  here  ?  —  and  his  pretty  wife. 
Where  are  they  ?  Auwe !  —  the  pair,  long  since 
separated,  the  wife  gone  somewhere  East,  and  the  man 
dead  these  several  years.  Jack,  thoughtful  over  the  pass- 
ing of  so  good  a  fellow,  sighed  regretfully;  and  then, 
sighing  again  but  with  a  difference,  enounced : 

"Mate  Woman,  we've  got  them  all  skinned  to  death, 
you  and  I !" 

And  Honolulu  had  of  course  altered,  and  grown.  New 
streets,  like  this  our  Beach  Walk,  had  been  laid  on  filled 
marshlands  at  Waikiki,  and  bordered  with  sweet  bunga- 
lows set  in  lovely  unf enced  gardens,  while  the  lilied  area  of 
duck-ponds  along  Kalakaua  Avenue  had  shrunken  to  the 
same  populous  end.  Beyond  the  Moana,  Heinie's,  an 
open-air  cafe  chantant  —  and  dansant  —  beguiled  the  up- 
to-date  residents  and  tourists,  and  a  roof-garden,  with  like 
facilities,  was  bruited  for  the  Alexander  Young.  The 
Country  Club,  out  Nuuanu,  boasted  what  we  heard  many 
a  mainlander  term  "the  finest  golf-links  anywhere."  Dia- 
mond Head's  rosy  cradle  had  become  unapproachable  as 
a  heavily  fortified  military  position.  Residential  districts  of 
beautiful  homes  had  extended  well  into  the  valleys,  and 
Kaimuki,  on  the  rolling  midlands  beyond  Kapiolani  Park, 
formed  quite  a  little  city  by  itself.  Some  of  the  vernal 
ridges  of  Honolulu's  background  had  blossomed  into  allur- 
ing building-sites  —  such  as  Pacific  Heights ;  and  Tantalus 
had  developed  to  a  large  extent  its  possibilities. 

Automobile  traffic  had  drawn  the  island  closer  together, 
and  a  drive  around  Oahu,  by  the  route  we  had  formerly 
traveled,  was  more  often  accomplished  in  one  day.  Once 
we  spent  a  night  on  Kahuku  Plantation,  guests  of  Mr. 


284  OUR  HAWAII 

and  Mrs.  Macmillan  (we  had  known  Mrs.  Macmillan  when 
she  was  a  newspaper  woman  in  California),  and  visited 
the  huge  Marconi  Wireless  Station  near  by.  Our  return 
to  Honolulu  was  made  by  way  of  the  railroad  around  the 
extreme  western  end  of  the  island.  This  trip  should  not 
be  missed,  for  it  shows  a  most  beautiful  coast  line,  and 
splendid  valleys  of  the  mountain  ranges,  on  the  slopes  of 
which  one  may  see  the  ruins  of  old  stone  walls  and  habi- 
tations of  long-dead  generations.  Automobile  picnics 
from  Diamond  Head  to  Koko  Head,  and  others  over  the 
Nuuanu  Pali  to  points  on  the  eastern  shore,  like  Kailua  and 
Waimanalo  bays,  together  with  a  visit  to  Kaneohe  Bay 
and  its  wondrous  coral  gardens,  and  swimming  and  sail- 
ing in  pea-green  water  over  jet-black  volcanic  sands,  nearly 
completes  the  circuit  one  may  make  of  this  protean  isle. 

This  summer  of  1915,  during  a  warm  spell  in  town, 
bag  and  baggage  we  moved  for  a  week  to  the  little  hotel 
at  Kaneohe  Bay.  Each  time  we  emerged  over  the  Pali 
into  the  valley  of  the  Mirrored  Mountains,  Jack  would 
exclaim  at  the  vast  pineapple  planting  that  had  flowed 
over  the  carmine  hillocks  below.  Instead  of  bemoaning 
this  encroachment  of  man  upon  the  natural  beauty  of  the 
landscape,  Jack  hailed  it  with  acclaim.  To  those  who  com- 
plained, he  would  cry : 

"I  love  to  see  the  good  rich  earth  being  made  to  work, 
to  produce  more  and  better  food  for  man.  There  is  always 
plenty  of  untouched  wild  that  will  not  produce  food. 
Every  time  I  open  up  a  new  field  to  the  sun  on  the  ranch, 
there  is  a  hullabaloo  about  the  spoiling  of  natural  beauty. 
Meantime,  I  am  raising  beautiful  crops  to  build  up  beauti- 
ful draft-animals  and  cattle  —  improving,  improving,  try- 
ing to  help  the  failures  among  farmers  to  succeed.  And, 
don't  you  see?  don't  you  see?  —  there's  always  plenty  of 
wild  up  back.  I  haven't  spoiled  one  of  the  exquisite  knolls. 
And  suppose  I  had  —  to  me  the  change  would  be  from  one 
beauty  to  another;  and  the  other,  in  turn,  would  go  to 


OUR  HAWAII  285 

make  further  beauty  of  animal  life,  and  more  abundance 
for  man." 

Indeed,  from  its  small  beginnings  of  but  a  few  years 
before,  the  pineapple  industry  had  risen  to  the  second  in 
importance  in  the  Islands,  giving  place  only  to  sugar. 

Mr.  Thurston,  on  a  vacation  at  Kaneohe,  one  day  took 
us  horseback  for  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  least 
known  jaunts  on  Oahu.  From  the  hotel  we  held  east  a 
quarter-mile  to  the  sandy  mouth  of  the  Kaneohe  River, 
across  a  spit  of  mountain-washed  debris,  through  aban- 
doned fishing  villages  and  little  groves,  and  then  skirted 
an  arm  of  the  bay,  outside  the  ancient  wall  of  a  fish  pond 
nearly  half  a  mile  in  diameter,  where  the  tide  washed  our 
horses'  flanks. 

Thence  we  reached  a  plain  partially  covered  with  sand 
and  sand  hills  washed  up  out  of  the  ocean,  and  rode  across 
an  old  coral  bed  formerly  undersea,  which  had  been  ele- 
vated several  feet.  Northwest  to  the  point  at  the  entrance 
to  Kaneohe  Bay,  from  a  small  fishing  village,  we  climbed 
a  low  volcanic  cone  to  see  the  ruins  of  an  old  heiau,  where 
some  seventy  years  ago  a  church  was  erected  by  the  pioneer 
Catholics.  The  church  is  now  in  ruins,  for  the  inhabitants, 
numbering  several  hundreds,  have  passed  away.  The 
pathetic  remains  of  their  little  rocky  homes  are  still  to  be 
seen  scattered  about  the  slopes  of  the  green  hills  and  upon 
surrounding  levels,  where  plover  run,  with  skylarks  soaring 
overhead.  And  for  the  first  time  in  our  lives,  in  this  lonely 
deserted  spot,  we  heard  the  celestial  caroling  of  these  lovely 
flying  organisms,  English  skylarks,  which  our  old  friend 
Governor  Cleghorn,  now  dead,  first  imported  from  New 
Zealand.  Ainahau,  auwe  and  ever  auwe,  had  been  broken 
up  into  town  lots,  and  was  become  the  site  of  a  boarding- 
house!  Never,  once,  did  Jack  or  I,  in  passing  along 
Kalakaua  Avenue,  glance  that  way.  Too  sorrowful  and 
indignant  we  were,  that  the  home  of  Likelike  and  Kaiu- 
lani  should  not  have  been  held  inviolate. 


286  OUR  HAWAII 

On  the  seashore,  inside  a  glorious  surf,  in  view  of  Na 
moku  manu,  or  Bird  Island,  where  we  could  see  myriad 
seabirds  nesting  and  flying  about  in  clouds,  we  lunched 
under  grotesque  lava  rocks,  carved  by  the  seas  of  ages; 
and  Jack  and  I  studied  the  green  and  turquoise  rollers 
that  thundered  close,  driven  by  the  full  power  of  the  trans- 
Pacific  swell,  figuring  how  we  should  comport  ourselves 
in  such  waters  if  ever  we  should  be  spilled  therein.  Again 
in  the  saddle,  we  let  the  horses  run  wild  over  a  continuous, 
broad  sand-beach,  for  a  mile  and  a  half,  to  our  right  a  line 
of  glaring  sand  hills,  called  Heleloa.  Mounting  these  later 
on,  Kakina  led  us  to  the  battle  field  of  a  century  before, 
where  the  Mauis,  landing,  had  fought  with  the  Oahus. 
The  winds  had  uncovered  a  scattering  of  bleached  bones, 
whiter  than  the  white  sand,  and  Jack,  always  interested 
in  skulls,  was  able  to  find  one  perfect  jawbone,  larger  than 
his  own,  with  several  undecayed  molars  firm  in  their  sockets. 

Near  the  shore  at  one  point  we  turned  aside  and  dis- 
mounted to  hunt  for  land-shells  in  the  bank  of  a  small 
gulch.  For  Lorrin  A.  Thurston  had  become  a  land-shell 
enthusiast,  and  by  now  possessed  a  fascinating  collection 
of  over  200  varieties,  laid  out  like  jewels  in  shallow,  velvet- 
lined  drawers. 

Following  the  northerly  shore  of  Mokapu  Point,  presently 
the  trail  mounted  the  outside  of  the  little  mountain  till, 
entering  at  the  open  south  side,  we  were  in  the  green 
half -crater  where  cattle  and  horses  grazed.  Tying  our  ani- 
mals, we  lay  heads-over  the  sea  wall  of  the  broken  bowl, 
looking  down  and  under,  two  hundred  feet  and  more  — 
"Kahekili's  Leap"  —where  the  ocean  surged  against  the 
forbidding  cliff,  from  which  our  scrutiny  frightened  nestling 
seabirds. 

So  far,  we  have  met  no  one  who  has  taken  this  little 
journey  of  a  day,  but  it  is  easily  accessible  and  more  than 
worth  while.  Nothing  can  surpass  the  magnificent  view 
one  has  of  the  blue  Pacific,  white-threshed  by  the  glorious 


OUR  HAWAII  287 

trade  wind ;  and  the  prospect,  landward  to  the  Mirrored 
Mountains,  is  indescribably  uplifting. 

Returning  from  Kaneohe  to  Honolulu  by  motor  a  few 
days  later,  after  heavy  rains,  we  thrilled  to  the  sight  of 
those  same  mountains  curtained  with  glorious  rainbowed 
waterfalls;  and  once  in  the  pass,  the  mighty  draft  of 
the  trades  revealed  fresh  cataracts  behind  torn  cloud- 
masses,  and  looped  and  dissipated  them  before  ever  they 
could  reach  the  bases  of  the  green  palisades.  Another 
attraction  of  the  Islands,  fathered  by  Alexander  Hume 
Ford,  is  the  Trail  and  Mountain  Clubs,  which  has  developed 
a  system  of  mountain  pathways  and  rest  houses  that  is  a 
paradise  for  hikers.  One  of  these  rest  houses  stands  on 
the  rim  of  Haleakala,  furnished  with  a  large  number  of 
bunks  and  camping  accommodations  for  the  public. 

Entertained  one  evening  at  dinner  by  Harry  Strange  and 
his  mother,  we  became  acquainted  with  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
C.  P.  laukea,  part-Hawaiian,  and  aristocratic-looking  to 
their  finger  tips.  He  had  been  Chamberlain  to  King 
Kalakaua,  and  accompanied  Kalakaua's  queen,  Kapiolani 
(probably  named  after  the  illustrious  defter  of  Pele),  to 
London  at  the  time  of  Queen  Victoria's  Jubilee.  At 
present  Colonel  laukea  is  one  of  the  trustees  of  Liliuo- 
kalani's  estate.  He  stated  that  the  Queen  had  expressed 
a  wish  to  meet  Jack  London,  and  Jack,  pleased  that  the 
meeting  should  come  about  in  this  way,  arranged  to  be 
present  at  a  private  audience  the  following  Thursday, 
March  n,  together  with  Mrs.  Strange  and  Harry. 

The  Royal  Hawaiian  Band,  conducted  by  the  venerable 
Henri  Berger,  now  in  his  seventy-first  year,  after  forty 
years'  leadership  of  the  band,  was  in  full  attendance  in  the 
Queen's  Gardens  at  Washington  Place,  which,  in  this  city 
of  notable  gardens,  is  cited  as  the  most  beautiful.  Berger, 
owing  to  age  and  failing  health,  has  since  been  retired  upon 
a  pension. 


288  OUR  HAWAII 

The  dignified  white  mansion  is  as  beautiful  in  its  own 
way  as  the  gardens,  and  tastefully  tropical,  surrounded  as 
it  is  by  broad  lanais,  with  large  pillars  supporting  the 
roof  in  Southern  colonial  style.  As  William  R.  Castle, 
Jr.,  writes :  "The  whole  has  an  air  of  retirement  expressive 
of  the  attitude  of  the  Queen  herself." 

And  on  the  white-columned  veranda,  robed  in  black 
holoku,  tender  old  hands  folded  in  her  silken  lap,  Her 
Majesty  sat  in  a  large  armchair,  at  her  back  certain  faith- 
ful ladies  —  Mrs.  Dominis,  wife  of  Aimoku  Dominis,  the 
Queen's  ward,  with  her  cherubic  little  son ;  Mrs.  Irene 
Kahalelaukoa  li  Holloway ;  and  Mrs.  laukea,  all  of  them 
solicitous  of  their  loved  Queen's  every  word  and  gesture. 
Their  veneration  is  a  touching  and  beautiful  link  to  the 
close  and  vivid  past. 

Liliuokalani's  fine  face,  as  we  saw  it  this  day,  was  calm 
and  lovable,  as  if  a  soothing  hand  had  but  lately  passed 
over  it.1  She  raised  quiet,  searching  eyes  to  our  faces, 
and  upon  Colonel  laukea's  introduction,  smiled  pleasedly 
and  extended  her  hand,  which  it  is  the  custom  to  kiss,  and 
which  we  saluted  right  gladly.  A  few  low-voiced  questions 
and  answers  concerning  work  Jack  had  done  on  Hawaii ; 
the  listening  to  a  number  or  two  from  the  Band ;  and  we 
were  free  to  wander  among  the  treasures  of  the  house, 
than  which  are  no  finer  specimens  of  royal  insignia  out- 
side the  Museum.  At  length,  Hawaii's  National  Anthem, 
rising  outside  under  the  palms,  brought  us  all  to  the  lanai 
again,  where  the  men  stood  uncovered. 

Queen  Liliuokalani's  own  book,  "Hawaii's  Story,  by 
Hawaii's  Queen,"  published  in  1906,  by  John  Murray, 
London,  should  be  read  not  only  for  her  viewpoint,  but 
also  because  it  is  piquantly  entertaining  in  its  lighter 

1I  note,  in  a  late  issue  of  the  Pacific  Commercial  Advertiser,  that  for  the  first 
time  since  the  Queen's  abdication,  the  American  Flag  floats  over  Washington  Place, 
indicating  her  sympathy  with  America's  entry  into  the  war  against  Prussianism. 

As  this  book  goes  to  press,  I  am  profoundly  touched  by  announcement  of  the 
death  of  the  beloved  Queen  of  the  Hawaiians,  Liliuokalani,  on  November  eleventh. 


OUR  HAWAII  289 

humors,  and  her  naive  descriptions  of  travel  and  characters 
in  the  United  States  and  England  are  delicious. 

Upon  our  arrival  in  Honolulu,  we  found  that  Nakata 
had  employed  his  time  in  visiting  his  uncle  and  cousins 
in  Lahaina,  Maui,  where  he  had  contracted  an  alliance  with 
the  oldest  of  the  cousins,  Momoyo.  And  thus  we  faced 
losing  the  boy  after  eight  years  of  mutually  enjoyable 
association,  for  the  wife  was  ambitious  for  him  to  become 
a  dentist,  and  found  a  family  of  his  own. 

Returning  from  a  luncheon  given  by  that  vital  institu- 
tion, the  Honolulu  Ad  Club,  Jack  burst  into  the  house : 

" Guess  whom  I  met  to-day!  Two  men,  both  of  whom 
you  have  known,  one  here  and  one  in  Samoa  —  and  now 
risen  to  different  positions  and  titles.  I  give  you  three 
chances.  Bet  you  'even  money '  you  couldn't  guess  in  a 
thousand  years." 

That  was  "easy  money"  for  him,  and  I  threw  up  my 
hands.  Our  fearless  old  friend,  Lucius  E.  Pinkham,  once 
president  of  the  Board  of  Health,  was  now  become  Gov- 
ernor of  the  Territory  of  Hawaii,  appointed  in  1913  by 
President  Wilson,  for  a  term  of  four  years ;  and  the  other 
we  had  known  in  Tahiti  and  Pago-Pago,  C.  B.  T.  Moore, 
erstwhile  Governor  at  the  latter  American  port,  and  Cap- 
tain of  the  Annapolis,  now  Rear  Admiral,  stationed  at 
Pearl  Harbor.  Later  we  exchanged  visits  with  Admiral 
and  Mrs.  Moore,  and  colorful  were  our  reminiscences  of 
days  and  nights  under  the  Southern  Cross. 

It  would  require  a  book  in  itself  to  tell  of  the  revolu- 
tionary alterations  in  Pearl  Lochs,  now  possessed  of  all  the 
circumstance  of  a  thoroughgoing  naval  station.  As  for 
the  old  Elysian  acre,  we  were  informed  it  had  changed 
hands  and  the  bungalow  had  been  replaced  by  a  much  more 
ambitious  one.  It  would  be  difficult  to  express  why  we  never 
went  back.  Perhaps  it  had  been  a  perfect  thing  in  itself, 
that  experience,  finished  and  laid  aside  in  heart's  lavender. 


29o  OUR  HAWAII 

So  much,  briefly,  for  naval  activity  on  Oahu.  As  for 
the  Army,  in  addition  to  the  older  forts,  and  the  new  for- 
tifications on  Diamond  Head,  Schofield  Barracks  had 
sprung  up,  a  city  in  itself,  over  against  the  Waianae  Moun- 
tains on  the  table-land,  and  we  could  hardly  believe  our 
eyes,  motoring  from  Haleiwa  Hotel  by  way  of  Pearl  Harbor, 
when  they  rested  on  the  modern  military  post  that  spread 
over  the  green  plain  to  the  mountain  slopes.  Here  we 
spent  two  or  three  days,  guests  of  Major  (now  Colonel) 
Guignard.  Oahu  had  become  the  greatest  military  station 
of  the  United  States. 

One  Sunday  we  spent  outside  Honolulu  Harbor  on  the 
famous  racing  yacht,  Hawaii;  and  in  our  hearts  and  on 
our  lips  was  the  wish  that  again  we  were  "down,  hull 
down  on  the  old  trail,"  with  a  hail  and  farewell  to  every 
glamorous  link  of  the  Snark's  golden  chain  of  ports,  thence 
on  and  on  through  the  years,  from  the  Solomon  Isles  to 
the  Orient,  beyond  to  the  seas  and  inland  waterways  of 
Europe.  "  You  never  did  gather  all  that  lapful  of  pearls 
I  promised  you,"  Jack  mused  regretfully. 

Four  days  after  this  yachting  party,  Honolulu  and  the 
rest  of  the  Union  shuddered  to  the  loss  of  the  Submarine 
F~4.  They  went  out  merrily  in  the  morning  —  F-i,  F-2, 
F~3,  F~4  —  and  all  emerged  but  the  last.  For  weeks  and 
months,  during  the  work  of  raising,  under  supervision  of 
the  U.  S.  S.  Maryland,  Captain  Kittelle,  there  was  a  subtle 
gloom  over  the  gayest  life  of  the  capital.  Outside  the 
Harbor  channel,  where  the  submarine  had  eventually 
slipped  off  coral  bottom  into  deep  ocean,  from  steamer  and 
sailor,  canoe  and  fishing  boat  and  yacht  that  passed  in 
or  out,  leis  were  dropped  upon  the  mournful  waters. 

Upon  the  Beach  at  Waikiki  it  was  seldom  we  missed 
the  long  afternoon.  Jack  worked  in  a  kimono  as  of  yore, 
his  face  and  figure  little  changed,  if  more  mature.  After 


OUR  HAWAII  291 

luncheon,  in  bathing  suit,  bearing  towels  and  a  white 
dangling  bag  of  blue-figured  Japanese  crepe,  knobby  as  a 
stocking  at  Christmas  time  with  books  and  magazines 
selected  from  the  boxes  regularly  shipped  from  the  Ranch 
at  home,  and  bountiful  cigarettes  and  matches,  he  would 
be  seen  walking  along  Kalia  Road  with  his  light  and  merry 
gait  to  the  Outrigger  Club.  And  "I'm  glad  we're  here 
now"  he  would  ruminate;  "for  some  day  Waikiki  Beach 
is  going  to  be  the  scene  of  one  long  hotel.  And  wonderful 
as  it  will  be,  I  can't  help  clinging,  for  once,  to  an  old  idea." 

Under  the  high  lanai  of  the  Outrigger,  we  lay  in  the  cool 
sand  between  canoes  and  read  aloud,  napped,  talked,  or 
visited  with  the  delightful  inhabitants  of  the  charmed 
strand,  until  ready  to  swim  in  the  later  afternoon.  One 
special  diversion  was  to  watch  several  Hawaiian  youths, 
the  unsurpassed  Duke  Kahanamoku  among  them,  per- 
forming athletic  stunts  in  water  and  out.  And  that  sturdy 
little  American  girl  we  had  known  before,  Ruth  Stacker, 
now  a  famous  swimmer  herself,  could  be  seen  instructing 
her  pupils  in  the  wahine  surf.  George  Freeth,  we  heard, 
was  teaching  swimming  and  surf-boarding  in  Southern 
California.  Our  own  swims  became  longer  from  day  to 
day.  Still  inside  the  barrier  reef,  through  the  breakers 
we  would  work,  emerging  with  back-flung  hair  on  their 
climbing  backs  while  they  roared  shoreward.  Beyond  the 
combing  crests,  in  deeper  water  above  the  coral  that  we 
could  see  gleaming  underfoot  in  the  sunshafts,  lazily  we 
would  tread  the  bubbling  brine  or  lie  floating  restfully, 
almost  ethereally,  on  the  heaving  warm  surface,  convers- 
ing sometimes  most  solemnly  in  the  isolated  space  between 
sky  and  solid  earth.  And  once  Jack  told  me  a  thing  that 
will  abide  like  a  dove  of  peace  until  I  die,  as  one  of  my 
sweetest  touches  with  this  sweetest  of  men : 

"I  never  told  you  this,"  he  began,  "but  many  years  ago, 
before  I  knew  you  existed,  I  lay  one  afternoon  on  a  California 
beach  —  at  Santa  Cruz  —  in  one  of  my  great  disgusts  .  .  . 


292  OUR  HAWAII 

you  know  —  when  I  have  dared  look  Truth  in  the  face, 
and  become  blackly  pessimistic  about  the  world  and  the 
men  and  women  in  it.  It  was  a  quiet  day;  and  while  I 
lay,  with  my  face  on  my  arms,  over  and  above  the  steady 
breathing  of  the  ocean  and  plashing  of  a  small  surf,  there 
came  to  me,  from  very  far  off,  almost  like  skylarks  in  the 
blue,  the  voices  of  a  man  and  a  woman." 

He  righted,  from  where  he  had  been  floating  on  his  back, 
and  slowly  trod  water  while  he  went  on,  dreamily : 

"I  couldn't  for  the  life  of  me  figure  where  the  voices  came 
from.  I  raised  my  head,  but  no  one  was  in  sight  on  the 
beach;  and  at  last,  the  nearing  conversation  guided  me 
seaward  where  I  could  just  barely  make  out  the  heads  of 
two  persons  very  leisurely  coming  in,  talking  cozily  out 
there  in  deep  water,  as  unconcerned  and  comfortable  as 
if  sitting  in  chairs  or  on  the  sand. 

"Something  inside  me  suddenly  yearned  toward  them  — 
they  were  so  blest,  those  two  together.  And  I  wondered, 
lying  there  sadly  enough,  if  there  was  a  woman  in  the  world 
for  me  —  the  little  woman  who  would  be  the  right  woman  - 
with  whom  I  could  go  out  to  sea,  without  boat  or  life- 
preserver,  hours  in  the  water  holding  long  comradely  talks 
on  everything  under  the  sun,  with  no  more  awareness  of 
the  means  of  locomotion  than  if  walking.  —  I  could  have 
told  you  this  eight  years  ago,"  he  recalled,  "the  day  we 
swam  across  the  bay  at  Moorea.  I  thought  of  it  at  the 
time.  But  we  were  not  alone.  The  stage  was  not  set 
for  you  and  me." 

Touched  and  gratified,  I  reminded  him  of  the  afternoon 
that  first  I  swam  to  the  Snark  in  Pearl  Lochs ;  and  more 
than  many  times,  swimming  free  in  the  breakers  at  Waikiki, 
hailing  with  shout  and  wave  of  hand  the  surfing  canoes 
and  boards  flashing  and  zipping  to  every  side,  we  referred 
to  those  days  when  the  farthest  we  swam  together  was  an 
eighth  of  a  mile  —  Jack  held  back  because  I  could  do  no 
more. 


OUR  HAWAII  293 

Deep  thinker  though  he  was,  and  worshipful  of  the 
brain-stuff  of  others,  he  ever  found  shining  things  of  the 
spirit  in  courageous  physical  endeavor.  I  think,  in  a  dozen 
close  years  with  him,  year  in  and  year  out,  "in  sickness 
and  in  health,"  till  death  did  us  part,  that  never  have  I 
seen  him  more  elated,  more  uplifted  with  delight  over  feat 
of  one  dear  to  him,  than  upon  one  April  day  at  Waikiki. 

An  out-and-out  Kona  gale  had  piled  up  a  big,  quick- 
following  surf,  threshing  milk-white  and  ominous  under  a 
leaden,  low-hanging  sky.  At  the  Outrigger  beach  no  soul 
was  visible ;  but  a  group  of  young  sea-gods  belonging  to  the 
Club  sat  with  bare  feet  outstretched  on  the  railing  of  the 
lanai  above  the  canoes.  Joining  them,  Jack  inquired  if  they 
were  "  going  out."  Young  Lorrin  Thurston  tossed  back  his 
sun-bleached  mop  of  gold  hair  from  his  golden-brown  eyes 
and  looked  at  the  others  quizzically.  "  No  thing  doing," 
one  laughed.  And  another,  "This  is  no  day  for  surf- 
boards —  and  a  canoe  couldn't  live  in  that  water."  "But 
we  are  going  to  swim  out,"  Jack  said.  "You'd  better  not, 
Mr.  London,"  the  boys  frowned  respectfully.  "You 
couldn't  take  a  woman  into  that  surf."  "You  watch  me," 
Jack  returned.  "I  could,  and  snail." 

We  went.  Now,  understand.  It  was  not  in  order  to 
be  spectacular  that  Jack  took  me  out  that  day.  This 
was  not  bravado.  With  the  several  weeks'  training  he 
had  given  me  in  sizable  breakers,  he  expected  as  a  matter 
of  course  to  see  me  put  that  training  to  use.  And  I  felt  as 
one  with  him.  The  thing  was,  first,  to  get  beyond  the 
diving-stage,  for  a  big  freshet  had  brought  down  the  little 
river  a  tangled  mass  of  thorned  algaroba  and  other  prickly 
vegetation,  which,  with  a  wild  wrack  of  seaweed,  made  the 
shallow  water  almost  impassable. 

Very  slowly  we  forged  out,  and  at  length  were  in  position 
where  the  marching  seas  were  forming  and  overtoppling. 
Rather  stupendous  they  loomed  to  small  me,  I  will  confess ; 
but,  remembering  other  and  smaller  ones  and  obeying 


294  OUR  HAWAII 

scrupulously  Jack's  quiet  " Don't  get  straight  up  and 
down  —  straighten  out  —  keep  flat,  keep  flat!"  I  managed 
not  badly  to  breast  and  pass  through  a  dozen  or  more  that 
followed  fast  and  faster,  almost  too  fast  for  me  to  get  breath 
between  whiles. 

But  when  I  finally  ventured  "  I  think  I  have  had  enough," 
immediately  Jack  slanted  our  course  channelward  where 
the  tide  flows  out  toward  the  reef  egress.  Once  in  this 
smoother  water  it  was  plain  sailing,  so  to  speak,  except 
that  after  half  an  hour  we  found  we  were  not  getting  any- 
where —  worse  than  that,  drifting  willy  nilly  out  to  sea. 
By  now,  the  young  crews  of  the  Outrigger  had  followed 
with  their  boards,  fearing  we  might  come  to  grief,  and  upon 
Lorrin's  advice  we  made  back  toward  the  breakers  and 
out  of  the  current,  and  "  came  in  strong"  with  our  best 
strokes  to  the  Beach. 

Again,  one  less  stormy  day,  in  deep  water  Jack  was  seized 
with  a  cramp  in  his  foot,  from  which  often  he  suffered  at 
night  —  a  painful  and  increasing  symptom  of  break  down 
in  his  ankles,  accompanied  as  it  was  by  rheumatism  in  both 
wrists  and  ankles.  Between  us,  he  floating,  I  treading, 
we  rubbed  and  kneaded  the  foot  as  best  we  could,  until  a 
strange  surf-boarder  hove  in  sight,  fighting  seaward,  whom 
I  hailed  at  Jack's  suggestion  through  set  teeth.  We  got 
Jack  on  the  board,  and  went  more  thoroughly  at  the 
ironing-out  of  the  cramp  with  our  palms,  and  presently  he 
was  able  to  swim  ashore. 

There  was  nothing  whatever  remarkable  in  these  two 
incidents.  Having  learned  to  put  implicit  faith  in  Jack's 
judgment,  which  I  had  never  had  reason  to  doubt,  I  merely 
followed  his  directions  and  knew  that  he  would  give  instant 
heed,  in  the  first  instance,  when  I  claimed  weariness. 
But  that  a  small,  sensitive  female  of  the  species  should 
follow  him  in  water  where  experienced  members  of  the 
Outrigger  hesitated  to  go,  and  that  she  should  not  lose  her 
head  in  his  disablement,  from  his  angle  surpassed  intellec- 


(i)  Kahilis  at  Funeral  of  Prince  David  Kawananakoa.    (2)  Kamehameha  the  Great. 
(3)  and  (4)  Sport  of  Kings. 


OUR  HAWAII  295 

tual  achievement,  because  it  called  for  spiritual  courage. 
"I'd  rather  see  my  woman  be  able  to  do  what  she  did, 
than  to  have  her  write  the  greatest  book  ever  published 
or  unpublished,"  tersely  summed  up  his  philosophy  of 
values. 

Once  more,  near  this  the  end  of  my  story,  as  in  its 
Foreword  I  pray  indulgence  for  what  seems  the  necessary 
sprinkling  of  the  perpendicular  pronoun,  in  order  to  present 
the  values  of  the  things  that  were,  as  Jack  would  say, 
his  bribe  for  living.  Courage,  to  him,  was  the  greatest 
thing,  after  love  and  loyalty,  in  the  world.  The  combina- 
tion of  these  formed,  for  him,  the  only  divinity  he  rec- 
ognized. 

The  newest  brood  of  surf -boarders  had  learned  and  put 
into  practice  angles  never  dreamed  of  a  decade  earlier. 
Now,  instead  of  always  coasting  at  right-angles  to  the  wave, 
young  Lorrin  and  the  half-dozen  who  shared  with  him  the 
reputation  of  being  the  most  skilled  would  often  be  seen 
erect  on  boards  that  their  feet  and  balance  guided  at  as- 
tonishing slants.  Surf -boar  ding  had  indeed  come  into  its 
own.  And  the  sport  never  seems  to  pall.  Its  devotees, 
as  long  as  boards  and  surf  are  accessible,  show  up  every 
afternoon  of  their  lives  on  the  Beach  at  Waikiki.  When  a 
youth  must  depart  for  eastern  college-life,  his  keenest  regret 
is  for  the  loss  of  Waikiki  and  all  it  means  of  godlike  con- 
quest of  the  "  bull-mouthed  breakers/  No  athletic-field 
dream  quite  compensates.  It  remains  the  king  of  sports. 

One  night  in  early  May,  Mayor  John  C.  Lane  of  Hono- 
lulu gave  a  great  luau  in  Kapiolani  Park,  where  some  fifteen 
hundred  of  us  sat  under  a  vast  tent-roof  and  listened  to 
the  flowery  eloquence  of  Senators  and  Congressmen  from 
Washington.  And  it  was  to  the  venerable  but  sprightly 
"  Uncle  Joe  "  Cannon  we  awarded  the  triumphal  palm  for 
the  most  sensible,  logical  speechifying  of  the  event.  This 


296  OUR  HAWAII 

magnificent  luau,  presided  over  by  the  handsome  Mayor, 
surpassed  any  in  our  experience  the  South  Seas  over. 
"  Mayor  Lane  ought  to  be  reflected  indefinitely,"  Jack 
would  say,  "  to  do  the  honors  of  his  office !  " 

The  following  day  Jack  and  I  both  sailed  from  Honolulu 
for  Hawaii,  but  on  separate  ships.  The  Mauna  Kea  was 
charted  to  take  the  Congressional  party  junketing  about 
the  Islands,  and  Jack  was  bidden  to  be  one  of  the  Enter- 
tainment Committee.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  the  Mauna 
Kea  was  full  to  overflowing,  even  so  that  many  of  the  Com- 
mittee bunked  on  deck,  we  resident  wives  were  blandly 
uninvited.  But  I,  through  a  timely  invitation  from  the 
Johnsons  on  the  Big  Island,  was  enabled  to  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  august  picnic  party. 

And  so,  with  "Aloha  nui  oe"  one  to  the  other,  Jack 
saw  me  off  for  Hilo  on  the  Kilauea,  sister  of  the  smart 
Mauna  Kea,  while  twelve  hours  later  he  was  headed  for 
Maui.  My  roommate  on  the  crowded  steamer  was  an 
Englishwoman,  Mrs.  Russell,  busily  knitting  socks  for  her 
brothers  fighting  in  France.  She  told  me  how  her  husband, 
who  had  worked  on  the  Snark's  machinery  eight  years 
before,  when  confronted  with  difficult  or  unsurmountable 
obstacles  or  problems,  had  ever  since  declared:  "This  is 
as  hard  as  repairing  Jack  London's  engines !" 

On  Maui,  Jack  became  much  interested  in  the  experiment 
that  had  been  made  in  small  homesteading  on  government 
land;  but  he  did  not  foresee  success  in  the  venture.  "You 
can't  turn  the  clock  back,"  he  said.  But  his  reasons  for 
his  opinion  in  the  matter  are  set  forth  in  his  own  book, 
"My  Hawaiian  Aloha,"  which  will  be  published  in  1918. 
This  series  of  articles,  written  in  1915,  Mr.  Thurston  has 
declared,  are  of  a  value  to  Hawaii  that  cannot  be  estimated 
in  gold  and  silver. 

And  so  I  next  saw  Jack  at  Napoopoo,  on  Kealakekua 
Bay,  with  the  Blue  Flush  for  background,  and  we  agreed 
warmly  that  never  anywhere  had  we  seen  anything  like 


OUR  HAWAII  297 

it,  and  nothing  to  surpass.  Here  the  Congressional  party 
disembarked  to  see  the  Cook  Monument,  and  from  Na- 
poopoo  were  whirled  south  and  around  through  the  Kau 
District,  over  a  new  and  wonderful  lava  highway,  to  the 
Volcano  House.  It  was  during  this  day's  ride,  at  luncheon 
by  the  way,  that  the  wires  flashed  to  us  the  stunning 
news  of  the  sinking  of  the  Lusitania,  and  a  stricken  look 
was  upon  the  faces  of  all  for  a  time. 

Following  our  greeting  at  Napoopoo,  Jack  had  whispered 
to  me : 

"See  that  man  over  there,  talking  to  Sam  Johnson? 
He's  the  managing  editor  of  the  Advertiser  —  the  very 
man,  I  feel  confident,  who  started  the  old  row  I  had  with 
Kakina  on  the  leper  stories.  And  we've  been  roommates 
on  the  Mauna  Kea"  he  broke  into  his  irresistible  chuckle, 

—  the  joke  is,  I  didn't  know  who  he  was,  and  we  promptly 
became  the  best  of  friends.  He  is  a  dandy  fellow.  Now 
it's  all  made  up  —  and  I  want  you  to  forget  the  old  hurt, 
Mate  Woman,  and  be  awfully  nice  to  him;  and  you'll 
like  him  immensely.  He's  delightful." 

I  allowed  myself,  with  Mr.  Roderick  O.  Matheson,  but 
one  reference  to  the  old  affair.  "You're  going  to  be  good 
to  Jack  henceforth  —  and  love  us?"  He  looked  at  Jack 
with  Gaelic  blue  eyes  brimful  of  affection:  "I  can  be  an 
awfully  good  friend,  Mrs.  London,"  he  said,  "and  Jack 
London  belongs  to  Hawaii,  now." 

The  Johnson  machine,  in  which  I  had  come  to  Napoo- 
poo, carried  a  full  and  very  jolly  cargo  back  to  Pahoa  on 
the  Puna  coast,  for  in  addition  to  its  driver,  the  exuberant 
Colonel,  and  us  two,  there  were  Senator  and  Mrs.  Warren, 
Mr.  Matheson,  and  "Bob"  Breckons,  one  of  Hawaii's 
most  brilliant  attorneys. 

Again  on  the  sulphurous  brink  of  Halemaumau,  Jack,  who 
cared  comparatively  little  for  spectacles  of  this  ilk,  remarked 
to  me  after  a  long  gazing  silence  at  the  increased  flow  and 
disturbance  of  the  mountain's  internal  forces : 


298  OUR  HAWAII 

"I'm  coining  personally  to  understand  your  fondness 
for  volcanoes  —  I  myself  am  getting  the  volcano  habit. 
I  shall  come  here  every  time  there  is  a  chance;  and  in 
future,  if  this  pot  boils  up  and  threatens  to  boil  over, 
and  we're  in  California,  we'll  take  the  first  steamer  down 
to  see  it  I" 

The  fame  of  Mrs.  Johnson's  house  party  the  next  twenty- 
four  hours,  given  to  her  allotment  of  members  of  the  junket- 
ing party  and  their  Entertainment  Committee,  is  still 
talked  in  Hawaii.  Among  others  from  Washington,  be- 
sides Senator  and  Mrs.  Warren,  who  proved  the  best  of 
"good  fellows,"  there  were  Senator  and  Mrs.  ShafTrath, 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton  Lewis,  wife  of  the  Senator,  who  had 
remained  East.  What  with  certain  city  officials  of  Hono- 
lulu and  Hilo,  and  their  wives,  the  Pearl  of  Puna's  slim 
ladyship  presided  over  a  circular  table  that  accommodated 
a  round  two  dozen  of  us,  and  a  merry  time  was  ours. 

On  the  following  Saturday,  our  two  steamers  arrived 
back  in  Honolulu  within  an  hour  of  each  other.  Mr. 
Thurston,  who  was  aboard  mine,  carried  me  up  Nuuanu 
for  breakfast  on  the  well-remembered  and  lately  visited 
lanai  over  the  rocky  stream ;  and  Harriet,  and  the  daughter 
Margaret,  now  grown  into  a  stately  and  beautiful  young 
woman,  again  led  me  down  into  the  magnificent  fernery  they 
had  connected  to  the  lanai,  roofed  over  a  grotto  hewn  in 
great  bowlders  on  which  the  house  rests.  While  still  at 
breakfast,  we  spied  the  Mauna  Kea  entering  harbor  from 
Kauai,  and  a  taxicab  delivered  me  on  the  dock  exactly  as  my 
man,  beaming  at  my  precise  calculation,  descended  the 
gangway. 

Shall  I  ever  see  Kauai  ?  I  had  planned  to  do  so ;  for 
this  1915  visit  to  Hawaii  I  had  expected  to  make  alone, 
returning  with  my  cousin,  Beth.  Meanwhile  Jack,  for 
an  eastern  weekly,  was  to  sail  on  a  battleship  with  Pres- 
ident Wilson,  attended  by  the  Atlantic  Fleet,  through 
the  Panama  Canal  to  the  Exposition  at  San  Francisco. 


OUR  HAWAII  299 

But  Jack  repeatedly  complained :  "If  you  knew  how  much 
I'd  rather  go  to  Hawaii  —  but  I  need  the  money,  my  dear, 
if  I'm  to  carry  out  my  schemes  on  the  ranch ! " 

The  official  cruise  being  abandoned  on  account  of  war 
developments,  he  contentedly  declared : 

" Now  I  can  go  to  Hawaii  with  you  for  a  few  weeks. 
And  I'll  write  a  new  dog  book  while  I'm  there.  And  we'll 
see  Kauai,  too." 

The  few  weeks  lengthened  into  five  months,  and  "  Jerry 
of  the  Islands"  was  begun  and  finished,  to  be  followed 
by  "Michael,  Brother  of  Jerry." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  Jack  alone  of  our  small  family 
saw  the  Garden  Island,  and  came  back  promising  that 
next  trip  to  the  Islands  we  should  stand  together  on  the 
brink  of  Hanalei,  Kauai's  famous  valley,  which  he  said 
beggared  description.  He  was  especially  fond  of  a  new  song, 
"Hanalei,"  and  often  asked  the  Hawaiians  to  sing  it  for 
him.  For  one  reason  or  another,  we  never  saw  Hanalei 
together. 

The  president  of  the  Board  of  Health,  Dr.  John  S.  B. 
Pratt,  being  absent  from  the  Territory,  Governor  Pink- 
ham,  always  full  of  aloha  toward  us,  gave  to  Mr.  D.  S. 
Bowman,  Acting,  his  earnest  kokua  (recommendation) 
that  we  be  furnished  with  a  permit  to  revisit  the  Leper 
Settlement.  Long  since  we  had  heard  from  Jack  McVeigh, 
who  affectionately  assured  us  of  his  personal  welcome. 
He  had  lately  asked  Jack  to  give  a  lecture  in  Honolulu, 
the  proceeds  to  be  applied  toward  erecting  a  new  motion- 
picture  theater  at  Kalaupapa;  but  shortly  the  means 
came  from  some  other  source,  and  the  lecture  did  not 
take  place. 

Jack  always  disliked  repeating  even  the  most  desired 
experience  in  exactly  the  same  manner;  and  this  time, 
with  gracious  permission  from  Mr.  Bowman,  for  the  sake 
of  variety  we  were  to  descend  the  Molokai  Pali.  To  this 


300  OUR  HAWAII 

end,  we  landed  from  the  Likelike  one  midnight,  bag  and 
saddle,  at  Kaunanakai,  where  waited  Henry  Ma,  a  wizzled, 
clever  little  old  Hawaiian,  sent  all  the  way  from  Kalaupapa 
with  horses.  Miss  Myers,  a  sister  of  Kalama  of  hearty 
memory,  going  home  from  Honolulu,  accompanied  us  up- 
mountain.  » 

Thus,  under  a  full  moon,  we  retraced  the  road  descended 
eight  years  earlier  in  the  heat  of  midday.  The  moonlight 
bewitched  the  remembered  landscape,  and  silvered  the 
receding  ocean  floor;  and  very  tenuous  and  unreal  it  all 
seemed,  as  the  eager  horses  forged  lightly  up,  mile  upon 
inclining  mile,  into  chill  air,  for  which  I,  for  one,  was  un- 
prepared. To  Jack's  insistence  that  I  wear  his  coat  I 
refused  to  listen,  until,  riding  alongside,  he  pressed  his 
warm  hands  to  my  cheek.  "See  —  how  warm  I  am  — 
you  know  me!"  His  circulation  was  always  of  the  best, 
and  never  have  I  known  his  hands  to  be  cold.  Even  on 
frosty  days,  tobogganing  or  sleighing,  or  long,  damp  hours 
at  the  Roamer's  winter  wheel  up  the  Sacramento  or  San 
Joaquin  rivers,  it  was  the  same;  "See  —  how  warm  my 
hands  are!" 

Ten  very  short  miles  to  ourselves  and  the  home-bound 
animals  lay  behind  when  we  reached  the  Myers'  house- 
gate.  I  shall  always  blame  sweet  Hawaiian  backwardness 
that  set  a  silence  upon  Kalama's  red  lips.  No  word  she 
spoke  except  "Aloha,"  as  smiling  she  led  the  flagged  way 
to  the  guest-cottage.  And  how  were  we  to  know  that 
this  imperial-bodied,  full-blossomed  Juno  was  molded  on 
the  frame  of  that  tall,  slim,  strapping  cow-girl  we  had  met 
nearly  ten  years  ago?  There  was  something  only  vaguely 
familiar  about  her,  and  I  dared  to  ask:  "We  knew  you 
here  before?"  Oh,  shades  of  night,  protect  and  hide! 
"Why,  yes,"  quietly,  "I  am  Kalama  —  don't  you  re- 
member?" Kalama!  Kalama!  Will  you  ever  forgive? 
Why  were  you  so  gorgeously,  amply  different  that  we 
knew  you  not? 


OUR  HAWAII  301 

"Do  you  know  where  you  are?"  this,  when,  after  three 
hours'  sleep,  Henry  Ma  had  tapped  upon  the  begonia- 
screened  window,  and  we  had  breakfasted  and  mounted  and 
were  galloping  over  green  pastures  to  Molokai's  great  f  alling- 
off  place.  Almost,  as  one  hesitates  to  unlock  a  long-sealed 
box  of  letters  and  pictures,  I  drew  back  from  the  imminent 
verge.  How  I  should  like  to  have  been  the  first  who  ever 
came  suddenly  upon  this  unexpected  void  of  disaster  and 
gazed  upon  the  incredible  lapse  of  the  world  below !  We 
had  yet  to  search  for  its  equal. 

A  very  different  trail  from  the  one  we  had  never  for- 
gotten was  that  we  now  descended,  —  wider,  and  so  de- 
pressed in  the  middle  that  the  earth  was  raised  at  the 
outer  edge.  Man  nor  beast  could  fall  off  the  palisade 
except  he  went  out  of  his  way  to  do  so.  But  the  action 
of  water  had  on  the  steepest  declivities  exposed  large 
bowlders  that  were  exceeding  disconcerting  to  horse  and 
rider.  Still  hanging  with  hind-hoofs,  while  feeling  below 
with  fore-,  a  grunt  from  the  cheerfully  alert  buckskin  pony 
would  advertise  that  its  unprotected  belly  had  come  in 
contact  or  impact  with  an  equally  rounded  if  less  yielding 
object.  Several  times  our  saddles  slipped  so  far  over-neck 
that  the  beasts  almost  overbalanced  to  a  somersault. 

"It  would  be  far  simpler  to  walk  and  lead  them/'  Jack 
giggled.  "But  I  rode  up  the  trail  without  getting  off,  and 
I'm  going  down  the  damned  thing  the  same  way !  What 
do  you  say?"  And  we  did  not  dismount,  save  when 
necessary  to  set  back  our  saddles. 

Once  at  the  doubly  luxuriant  kukui  cluster  at  the  feet 
of  the  pali,  we  saw  a  rider  urging  his  flying  steed  in  our 
direction  —  Jack  McVeigh,  could  it  be  ?  But  it  was  only 
a  half  of  the  big  bluff  man  we  had  known.  A  severe  illness 
had  rendered  him  almost  unrecognizable;  but  the  hand- 
clasp and  voice  were  the  same,  if  more  than  ever  cordial. 
One  of  the  first  remarks  was:  "I  wish  you  were  going  to 
be  here  for  the  Fourth.  We're  going  to  whoop  it  up 


302  OUR  HAWAII 

in  grander  style  than  ever.  The  Fourth  you  saw  won't  be 
a  patch  on  what's  going  to  happen  this  time." 

Dr.  Will  Goodhue,  a  little  heavier,  and  if  anything  more 
benign  if  that  could  be,  with  his  beautiful  Madonna,  and 
in  her  arms  their  newest  babe,  waited  at  the  arbored  gate 
to  welcome  us  of  the  wayward  feet.  Dr.  Hollmann  was 
now  with  the  indefatigable  Dr.  George  W.  McCoy,  at  the 
Kalihi  Receiving  Station  in  Honolulu,  where  subsequently 
we  renewed  acquaintance. 

The  huge  Belgian  dairyman,  good  Van  Lil,  of  old  memory, 
now  a  patient,  had  married  another,  and  the  pair  lived 
happily  in  a  vine-hidden  cottage  near  Kalawao,  making  the 
most  of  their  remaining  time  on  earth.  Beyond  a  fleeting 
embarrassment  in  his  vague  blue  eye,  he  met  us  on  the 
Damien  Road  with  the  undimmed  buoyancy  of  other  years, 
and  our  eyes  could  see  no  blemish  on  his  face.  Probably 
we  were  more  affected  than  he,  for  in  the  main  the  victim 
of  leprosy  is  as  optimistic  as  he  of  the  White  Plague. 

And  Emil  Van  Lil  was  not  the  only  one  whom  we  saw 
who  had  perforce  changed  his  status  toward  society  in 
the  intervening  eight  years.  The  little  mail-carrier  who 
had  led  us  up  out  of  the  Settlement,  we  found  in  the  Bay 
View  Home,  cheerful  as  of  yore,  although  far  gone  with 
the  malefic  blight.  And,  auwe !  —  some  of  the  men  and 
women  we  had  known  here  before  as  extreme  cases  still 
lingered,  sightless  perhaps,  but  trying  to  smile  with  what 
was  left  of  their  contorted  visages,  in  recognition  of  our 
voices.  Others,  whose  closing  throats  had  smothered  them, 
breathed  through  silver  tubes  in  their  windpipes.  Strange 
is  this  will  to  persist  —  tenacity  of  life ! 

To  light  the  almost  desperate  gloom  of  pity  that  could 
not  but  overwhelm  me,  Jack,  with  the  shadow  on  his 
bright  face  too  often  there  since  the  Great  War  commenced, 
said: 

"Dear  child  —  awful  it  is;  but  awful  as  it  is,  think  of 
how  thousands  of  healthy,  beautiful  human  beings  are  mak- 


OUR  HAWAII  303 

ing  one  another  look  in  the  shambles  of  civilized  Europe 
right  now  while  we  stand  here  looking  at  these. " 

Annie  Kekoa,  we  were  cheered  to  hear,  had  been  dis- 
charged years  before,  all  tests  having  failed  to  locate  further 
evidence  in  her  of  the  bacillus  leprce,  the  depredations  of 
which  had  ceased  with  her  slightly  twisted  hand.  She  was 
now  married  and  living  in  Hilo. 

With  pardonable  pride  the  Superintendent  showed  us 
through  the  new  " McVeigh  Home,"  for  white  lepers; 
and  next  forenoon,  while  Jack  finished  writing  a  chapter  of 
"Jerry,"  I  visited  the  Nursery,  also  new,  where,  behind 
glass,  mothers  may  see  their  babes  once  a  week  until 
the  tiny  things  are  removed  to  the  Detention  Home  in 
Honolulu.  Born  as  they  are  "clean"  of  the  disease,  they 
are  taken  from  their  mothers  immediately  after  birth,  since 
further  contact  is  a  peril  most  strictly  to  be  avoided. 

Probably  not  one  remained  of  the  Bishop  Home  girls 
who  had  wrung  our  souls  with  their  plaintive  singing ;  but 
for  Mother  Marianne,  wraith-like  in  her  frail  transparency, 
with  blessings  in  her  blue-veined  hands  and  old  eyes  that 
seemed  to  look  through  and  beyond  us,  we  endured,  as  in 
the  past,  a  concert.  And  it  was  no  easier  for  them  and  for 
us  than  it  had  been  for  us  and  those  who  had  gone  before. 
Again  were  the  tender  things  more  sorrowful  for  my  un- 
concealable  grief  than  for  their  own. 

But  facts  are  facts,  and  joyous  ones  must  overbalance 
the  sorrowful.  By  stern  and  sterner  segregation,  as  was 
done  in  Europe,  leprosy  is  being  successfully  stamped  out 
of  the  Hawaiian  Islands.  Eight  years  before,  on  Molokai, 
there  were  nearly  a  thousand  lepers,  and  the  Noeau  made 
four  yearly  trips  to  carry  the  apprehended  victims  of  the 
Territory;  now  there  are  a  trifle  over  six  hundred,  and 
but  one  human  cargo  in  the  twelve  months  disembarks 
at  Kalaupapa.  This  diminution  of  roughly  thirty  per 
cent  of  patients  led  Jack  to  prognosticate  that  fifty  years 
hence  the  good  rich  acres  of  the  Molokai  Peninsula  will 


304  OUR  HAWAII 

be  clean  farmland  for  the  clean,  and  moreover  an  accessible 
and  unparalleled  scenic  wonder  for  the  travelers  of  the 
world. 

"I  am  happier  about  this  place  than  I  ever  hoped  to  be," 
he  imparted  to  me.  "Oh,  don't  think  for  a  moment  that  I 
minimize  the  dreadfulness  of  leprosy.  But  I  am  certain 
now  of  the  passing  of  it,  if  the  Islands  persist  in  this  rigid 
segregation." 

And  Jack  ever  stood  reverent  before  the  bey  ond-price  work 
of  Dr.  Will  Goodhue  in  freeing  the  inhabitants  of  the  Settle- 
ment from  their  thrall.  Let  me  quote  from  his  article,  re- 
quested by  the  Advertiser  upon  our  return  to  Honolulu : 

"  I  insist  that  I  must  take  my  hat  off  in  salute  to  two  great,  cour- 
ageous, noble  men :  Jack  McVeigh  .  .  .  and  Dr.  Will  Goodhue.  .  .  . 
My  pride  is  to  say  that  I  have  had  the  vast  good  fortune  to  know 
two  such  men.  McVeigh,  sitting  tight  on  the  purse-strings  of  the 
one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year  appropriated  by  the 
Territory,  sitting  up  nights  as  well,  begging  money  from  his  friends 
to  do  additional  things  for  the  Settlement  over  and  beyond  what  the 
Territory  finds  itself  able  to-day  to  appropriate,  is  the  one  man  in 
the  Territory  to-day  who  could  not  be  replaced  by  any  other  man  in 
his  job.  Dr.  Goodhue,  the  pioneer  of  leprosy  surgery,  is  a  hero  who 
should  receive  every  medal  that  every  individual  and  every  country 
has  ever  awarded  for  courage  and  life-saving.  ...  I  know  of  no  other 
place,  lazar  house  or  settlement,  in  the  world,  where  the  surgical  work 
is  being  performed  that  Dr.  Goodhue  performs  daily.  ...  I  have 
seen  him  take  a  patient,  who,  in  any  other  settlement  or  lazar  house 
in  the  world,  would  from  the  complications  of  the  disease  die  horribly 
in  a  week,  or  two  weeks  or  three  .  .  .  and  give  it  life,  not  for  weeks, 
not  for  months,  but  for  years  and  years,  to  the  rounded  ripeness  of 
three  score  and  ten,  and  give  to  it  thereby  the  sun,  the  ever  changing 
beauty  of  the  Pali,  the  eternal  wine  of  wind  of  the  northeast  trades, 
the  body-comfort,  the  brain-quickness,  the  love  of  man  and  woman 
—  in  short,  all  the  bribes  and  compensations  of  existence." 

In  a  machine,  by  way  of  a  new  boulevard  on  the  coast, 
we  went  to  Kalawao,  and  saw  our  good  friend  the  faithful 
Brother  Button,  alert  as  ever  among  his  pupils;  and 
passed  on  to  the  imposing  Federal  Leprosarium  on  the 


OUR  HAWAII  305 

wind-swept  shore  in  view  of  the  lordly  front  of  promon- 
tories with  their  feet  in  the  deep  indigo  sea.  This  Lepro- 
sarium had  been  built  at  a  cost  of  $300,000,  and  was  now 
abandoned  and  falling  into  the  swift  decay  of  disuse  in 
the  tropics.  Such  a  Leprosarium  was  never  known.  Jack 
McVeigh  almost  wept  as  he  fingered  the  full  equipment 
of  blankets  molding  in  their  original  wrappings  :  the  beds, 
the  washstands,  the  endless  costly  paraphernalia  of  a 
hospital,  lying  inutile  and  deteriorating,  which  he  was 
unable  to  put  into  needful  circulation  in  the  Settlement. 
Even  the  fine  dynamo,  which  a  caretaker  was  paid  to  keep 
from  rusting  —  "  Think  how  this  could  furnish  my  people 
with  electricity!"  he  mourned.  O  red,  red  tape  —  what 
a  curious  institution  dost  thou  create ! 

Jack  London  very  shortly  got  himself  into  trouble  by 
airing  his  views  in  the  Advertiser,  which  stirred  up  a  tidy 
tempest  of  protest  in  Washington,  D.  C. ;  but  he  was, 
after  much  hot  correspondence  in  the  press,  the  means  of 
Jack  McVeigh  finally  getting  his  selflessly  covetous  hands 
on  the  outfit  of  the  ambitious  edifice.1 

Mr.  Thurston  had  long  planned  a  Japanese  sampan  trip 
from  Honolulu  to  the  non-leper  valleys  of  windward 
Molokai,  which  lie  between  those  stately  promontories 
beyond  Kalawao.  And  so,  early  on  Sunday,  "Decoration 
Day,"  according  to  prearrangement  by  wireless  and  tele- 
phoned to  the  Settlement,  a  smart  blue  sampan  hove  in 
sight  around  the  pali  headland,  and  lying  off-shore  sent 
in  a  coffin-shaped  tender  with  an  alarming  freeboard  that 
made  it  appear  topheavy.  Kakina  possessed  no  permit 
and  therefore  did  not  so  much  as  step  on  the  Kalaupapa 
breakwater-landing. 

1  Eight  months  after  Jack  London's  passing,  the  Pacific  Commercial 
Advertiser  contained  a  column  stating  that  the  Federal  Leprosarium  would 
probably  be  torn  down  and  the  material  used  for  building  cottages  in  the 
Settlement,  which,  J.  D.  McVeigh  is  quoted  as  saying,  "it  would  be  a  God- 
send to  secure."  In  this  column  Jack  London  is  mentioned  as  having  been 
the  first  to  suggest  such  action. 
x 


3o6  OUR  HAWAII 

Aboard  the  outlandish  power-boat,  we  found  Mr.  W.  L. 
Emory,  an  architect  of  Honolulu,  and  his  son  Kenneth, 
both  engaging  personalities,  and,  to  our  hearty  delight, 
Mr.  Jack  Atkinson,  who  had  not  yet  decided  whether  or 
not  he  would  be  seasick.  We  decided  for  him,  if  un- 
wittingly. A  rainbow-and-silver  sickle  of  an  aku,  bonita, 
was  presently  seen  tripping  the  wave-tops  at  the  end  of 
the  Japanese  sailors'  t  rolling-line.  This,  promptly  dis- 
patched and  prepared  with  Japanese  soyu  —  to  Jack  and 
me  more  toothsome  than  any  raw  oysters  —  proved  the 
last  straw,  not  to  mix  metaphors,  to  Mr.  Atkinson's  camel 
of  control. 

Oh,  the  rich  life  we  lived  on  our  via  regia  of  happiness ! 
Here  were  we  again,  in  a  small  boat,  sixty  feet  over  all  — 
"Only  five  feet  longer  than  the  Snark,  Mate-Woman !" 
running  before  the  big  coastwise  seas  that  heaved  and  broke 
in  jeweled  chaos  almost  over  the  fleeing  stern.  Again  the 
"stinging  spindrift"  was  in  our  faces,  and  I  could  have 
cried  for  joy  at  being  on  even  so  small  a  portion  of  "the 
trail  that  is  always  new." 

Skirting  the  black  lava-bound  peninsula,  with  its  comb- 
ing surf,  we  were  soon  in  calmer  water  off  the  mouth  of 
the  riotous  valley  where  we  had  ridden  that  long-ago  day, 
its  walls  rising  thousands  of  feet  into  the  blue.  It  gave  us 
an  adventurous,  alert  feeling  to  skim  the  glassy  swell  under 
those  over  towering  somber  cliffs,  in  the  passes  between  shore 
and  the  three  dark-green  abrupt  islets,  fragments  left  from 
old  convulsions  of  the  riven  island.  The  largest,  Mokapu, 
over  a  hundred  feet  high,  is  crowned  with  mosses  and  shrubs, 
and  a  species  of  stunted  palm  tree  found  nowhere  else  in  the 
world  save,  perhaps,  on  Necker,  another  islet  of  Hawaii. 

The  air  rustled  with  wings,  around  and  overhead,  and 
Jack  and  I  thrilled  again  to  the  call  of  the  bosun  bird, 
puae,  and  watched  rapt  its  flight,  high,  high,  and  higher, 
above  the  pure  white  waterfalls  that,  spent  in  the  wind, 
never  reached  the  sunshot  dark-sapphire  brine. 


OUR  HAWAII  307 

Two  miles  or  so  beyond  the  last  valley  we  had  known, 
the  sampan  rounded  into  Pelekunu,  unknown  to  the  tour- 
ist, and  visited  by  no  one  we  had  ever  met.  No  vessel 
can  approach  the  beach  of  its  U-shaped  bay,  which  shelves 
steeply  out  of  deep  water,  bluer  than  the  staring-blue 
sampan.  "Why,  the  valley  ran  into  the  ocean,"  Kenneth 
observed. 

No  possible  landing  place  could  we  detect,  and  followed 
the  slant  eyes  of  the  Nipponese  skipper  and  his  men  while 
the  oriental  launch  chugged  steadily  into  mid-bay,  pres- 
ently making  in  closer  to  the  beetling  cliff  on  our  right. 
A  ledge  of  volcanic  rock,  jutting  into  the  ocean-deep  water, 
was  indicated  as  the  landing;  but  slow  surges  swept 
rhythmically  across  it.  "Can't  help  being  glad  we  know 
how  to  swim,"  Jack  remarked,  every  sailor-sense  of  him  on 
the  qui  vive.  Our  problem  lay  in  gauging  our  leap  from 
the  top-heavy  marine  coffin  at  the  exact  right  moment. 
Only  in  quiet  weather  can  any  sort  of  connection  be 
effected.  If  it  be  a  trifle  rougher  than  on  this  day,  a 
basket  on  a  derrick  is  lowered  into  the  boat  for  passengers 
to  climb  into. 

I  decided  to  try  both  ways,  and  once  safely  on  the 
ledge,  indicated  to  several  native  youngsters  who  had 
run  the  half  mile  from  the  village  at  the  head  of  the  U,  to 
send  down  the  rattan  car.  Swinging  up  in  the  air,  the 
cable  manipulated  by  two  mere  children,  I  had  a  decided 
if  precarious  advantage  over  my  companions  who  clambered 
a  long  vertical  ladder. 

Our  slight  luggage  disappeared  like  magic  villageward 
in  the  arms  of  the  natives,  and  we  followed  at  leisure  the 
tropic  trail.  It  is  a  story :"  in  itself,  that  night  and  the 
next  day  in  the  isolate  valley  of  Pelekunu.  The  sea, 
and  this  only  at  rare  intervals,  is  its  sole  egress,  except  for 
those  who  have  clinging  abilities  second  to  none  but  wild 
goats.  The  few  inhabitants,  living  in  weather-grayed  houses 
almost  as  picturesque  as  their  hereditary  lauhala  huts, 


3o8  OUR  HAWAII 

welcomed  us  with  wide  arms,  and,  like  souls  of  grace  we 
had  known  so  sweetly  in  the  South  Seas,  gave  us  their 
best.  A  Hawaiian  pastor  and  a  Belgian  priest  vie  in  kind- 
ness to  their  limited  flocks,  and  all  proffered  us  the  freedom 
of  the  place. 

Up  wet  and  steaming  paths  we  strove  through  hot-house 
plants  that  shook  perfumed  raindrops  upon  us,  into  the 
short,  mounting  vale ;  and  I,  while  the  men  went  landshell- 
hunting  with  and  for  the  eager  Kakina,  idled  in  deep 
grass  like  that  remembered  of  lao  and  Tantalus.  I  tried 
hard  to  realize  the  earthly  actuality  of  this  sheer  amphi- 
theater of  greenest  green  laughing  with  swishing  water- 
courses and  long  falls,  and  the  intense  inshore  peacock- 
green  of  the  precipitously  walled  bay,  turning  to  intenser 
peacock-blue  outside,  clear  to  the  low  white  wool-packs 
on  the  intensest  indigo  horizon. 

" We'll  return  here  some  day,  when  we  needn't  hurry; 
and  then  we'll  go  into  Wailau,  too,"  Jack,  who  had  been 
especially  happy  himself  on  this  little  side-voyage,  en- 
deavored to  compensate  my  regret  in  passing  the  next 
lovely  rent  in  the  shore  —  lovely  as  Pelekunu,  with  an  al- 
most impregnable  partition  between  the  two.  What  we 
saw  from  the  resumed  sampan  trip,  young  Kenneth  Emory, 
in  Ford's  Mid-Pacific  Magazine,  later  on  described  too 
happily  to  omit : 

"  With  each  revolution  of  the  propeller,  scenes  were  laid  open  whose 
magnificence  and  beauty  surpassed  all  that  we  thought  impossible  to 
surpass  the  day  before.  A  plateau  three  thousand  feet  high  and  a 
mile  long  ended  in  one  vast  pali  —  cut  down  as  if  by  a  knife. 
Waterfalls,  peaceful  vales,  lagoons  hidden  under  dark  caverns, 
tropical  birds  floating  above,  vines  swaying  in  the  wind,  every  form 
and  color  of  beauty  lay  revealed  upon  the  grand  precipice  above  us." 

How  strange  to  ascend  Haleakala  in  an  automobile !  — 
oh,  not  to  the  summit,  but  even  to  the  Von  Tempskys'  and 
some  miles  above. 


OUR  HAWAII  309 

Kahului  had  fulfilled  its  promise  and  become  a  lively 
young  town,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  K.  Duncan,  kind  friends 
who  entertained  us  at  their  pretty  beach  home,  took  us 
to  Wailuku,  unchangeably  quaint,  and  into  fabulous 
lao,  that  transcended  all  our  recollection  of  it.  And 
then  the  voices  of  the  Vons  over  the  telephone  from 
Kaleinalu  by  the  sea,  and  next  from  their  smart  machine 
at  the  Duncans'  gate  —  the  same  debonair  Von,  and  the 
two  elder  girls  grown  to  beautiful  womanhood,  all  of  us 
with  tears  in  our  joy  of  reuniting,  for  Amy  the  mother  had 
died  untimely.  During  our  subsequent  visit  at  the  Ranch 
we  missed  her  presence  at  every  turn.  Lorna,  thirteen, 
brought  up  as  a  girl  in  Hawaii  may  gloriously  be,  to  the 
free  life  of  saddle  and  range,  could  rope  cattle  with  the 
best;  and  the  young  son,  Errol,  was  not  far  behind.  At 
the  races  in  Kahului,  we  saw  Jubilee's  colt,  Wallaby,  carry 
off  honors  for  Gwen;  and  the  Welshman  and  Bedouin, 
as  well  as  Pontius  Pilate,  were  reported  still  alive  on  the 
Ranch. 

During  the  weeks  spent  there,  I  noticed  with  surprise  and 
faint  misgiving  that  Jack  stayed  rather  close  to  the  house. 
"Oh,  you  girls  run  along  ...  I  think  I  won't  ride  to-day. 
There's  so  much  to  read  —  I  can  never  catch  up.  Per- 
haps I'm  lazy;  I'd  rather  lie  around  and  read.  We'll 
do  Haleakala  next  time  we  come."  But  he  never  looked 
into  Haleakala  again.  Even  then  the  Shadow  was  upon 
him. 

THE  SECOND  RETURN 

Voyaging  back  to  California  in  time  for  Jack  to  attend 
the  High  Jinks  of  the  Bohemian  Club  at  their  Grove,  which 
is  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Ranch,  we  spent  a  gay  summer 
and  fall,  with  a  continuous  house  party  making  merry  upon 
Sonoma  mountain  side.  Jack's  7,ooo,ooo-gallon  reservoir 
impounded  behind  his  new  dam,  of  summer-warm  water 
encircled  by  redwood  and  madrono  forest,  made  it  pos- 


3io  OUR  HAWAII 

sible  to  keep  up  our  swimming  condition.  Too  often,  how- 
ever, I  could  not  but  notice  that  he  sat  and  watched  the 
rest  swim,  or,  in  bathing-suit,  paddled  guests  about  in  the 
canvas  canoe  or  the  larger  skiff  —  items  of  Snark  outfit 
that  had  never  got  aboard. 

And  long  horseback  rides  seemed  by  him  to  have  been 
relegated  to  the  past.  To  be  sure,  his  increasing  devotion 
to  agricultural  problems  on  the  "  Ranch  of  Good  Inten- 
tions" necessitated  close  supervision;  but  otherwise  he 
appeared  to  prefer  quiet  riding,  and  the  mild  brown  Prince 
stood  saddled  under  the  big  oak  more  frequently  than 
the  growing  colts  or  the  skittish  Hilo.  Many  a  day  he 
begged : 

"Will  you  go  out  with  the  folks  over  the  trail?  —  I 
think  I'll  take  a  sleep  this  afternoon,  if  you  don't  mind." 
Or,  I  rode  alone ;  but  always  out  of  the  house  he  stepped  to 
meet  my  returning,  with  a  pleased  word  about  the  par- 
ticular colt  I  bestrode,  and  a  beaming  "If  you  knew  how 
I  love  to  hear  you  coming  up  the  hill !" 

All  the  while,  the  Great  War  weighed  upon  his  spirit, 
sleeping  or  waking. 

As  the  autumn  wore,  again  he  turned  to  Hawaii.  "Why 
not  spend  our  winters  there?"  he  suggested.  "We'll  take 
the  whole  household  down,"  -  and  thereupon  set  the  wires 
vibrating,  to  the  end  that  when  we  arrived  in  Honolulu, 
December  23  of  the  same  year,  1915,  on  the  Great  Northern, 
by  way  of  Hilo  and  the  volcano,  we  went  right  into  a  de- 
lightful house,  2201  Kalia  Road,  around  the  corner  from 
the  Scott  cottage  on  Beach  Walk.  Amongst  other  ac- 
quaintances of  the  Great  Northern  voyage  we  especially 
valued  one,  Mr.  James  D.  Dole,  who  is  the  young  "pine- 
apple king"  of  Hawaii  —  the  most  unassuming  self-made 
millionaire  imaginable.  "Oh,  Mr.  Dole's  just  folks"  I 
once  heard  a  New  England  woman  observe.  "Nothing 
airish  about  him!" 

At  Hilo  Bay,  where  the  Great  Northern  first  touched, 


OUR  HAWAII  311 

certain  glaring  inefficiency  on  the  part  of  the  launch  owner 
at  Waiakea,  in  handling  passengers  to  and  from  the  steamer, 
caused  Jack  to  go  right  up  in  the  air,  on  the  spot  and 
later  in  the  press,  with  a  righteous  wrath  that  stamped 
him  true  promoter  of  Hawaii's  interests. 

Our  place  at  Waikiki,  adjoining  the  grounds  of  the  quiet 
Hau  Tree  Hotel  of  old,  now  the  Halekulani,  had  once  been 
the  property  of  one  of  the  Castles,  and  next  of  Judge  Arthur 
Wilder,  cousin  of  James  and  Gerrit  Wilder,  whose  suicide 
at  the  Beach  in  the  fall  of  1916  shocked  the  Islands.  It 
was  now  owned  by  a  Chicago  millionaire. 

Mr.  Ford  and  Harry  Strange  met  us  at  the  wharf,  but 
before  getting  into  the  machine,  we  must  shake  hands 
and  condole  with  our  old  friend  Mr.  Kawehaweha,  of 
Keauhou  memory,  just  returning  to  the  Big  Island  from 
burying  his  sweet  life-partner. 

And  then  we  were  driven  to  Kalia  Road,  where,  in  the 
old  house  that  was  to  be  our  new  home,  we  discovered 
Harry's  mother  putting  the  last  touches  to  the  perfect 
sunny  orderliness  she  had  wrought  out  of  the  chaos  of  un- 
occupiedness  of  disarranged  furnishing  covered  with  spiders 
and  dust  and  mold.  In  reply  to  our  laughing  protest  that 
any  one  in  this  matter-of-fact  world  should  do  so  infinitely 
much  for  any  one  else,  she  exclaimed,  "  Why,  it's  nothing  at 
all,  my  dears ;  in  England,  just  as  a  matter  of  course,  we 
always  open  up  returning  neighbors'  homes!" 

This  was  welcome  indeed ;  and  day  after  next,  she  had 
us  to  a  real  English  Christmas  dinner,  with  holly  all  the 
way  from  "Home."  Harry  came  to  fetch  us,  in  a  violent, 
warm,  delightful  Kona  storm  that  turned  streets  into  rivers 
and  vacant  lots  at  Waikiki  into  lakes,  where  Hawaiian  youth 
for  days  frolicked  and  caught  many  a  meal  of  derelict  fish. 

Jack,  so  frequently  and  viciously  misrepresented,  found 
he  had  dived  full  tilt  into  a  cool  wave  of  hostility  in  Army 
and  Navy  circles,  due  to  the  recrudescence  of  a  canard 


3i2  OUR  HAWAII 

which  for  years  he  had  vigorously  denied,  and  which  had 
occasioned  endless  annoyance  at  most  inopportune  mo- 
ments. One  such  was  when,  at  Galveston  in  1914,  he  was 
ready  to  sail  as  war  correspondent  with  General  Funston 
for  Vera  Cruz.  This  canard,  "The  Good  Soldier,"  pur- 
ported to  be  an  address  by  Jack  London  to  the  youth  of 
America  who  might  have  a  mind  to  enlist,  exhorting  such, 
in  no  uncertain  terms,  to  avoid  military  service. 

"If  the  Army  and  Navy  men  would  only  take  the  trouble 
to  read  their  own  official  sheets,"  Jack  would  fume  dis- 
gustedly. "But  they  don't  know  their  own  papers.  How 
the  hell  am  I  going  to  tell  them  all,  separately,  that  I  didn't 
write  a  word  of  the  thing !  I  deny,  and  deny,  and  deny, 
until  I  am  tired,  and  what  good  does  it  do,  when  they  don't 
see  the  denials?"  For  in  the  Army  and  Navy  Register,  as 
well  as  the  Journal,  and  in  the  general  press,  he  had  re- 
peatedly disclaimed  authorship  of  or  sympathy  with  the 
sentiments  of  the  canard.  Mr.  Matheson  saw  to  it  that 
Kakina's  Advertiser  gave  full  publicity  to  Jack's  real 
views,  and,  as  in  Vera  Cruz,  we  made  good  friends  in  the 
Army  and  Navy.  This  "Good  Soldier"  canard,  with 
Jack's  letter  of  denial  and  his  decided  views  upon  pre- 
paredness, written  to  Lieutenant  James  D.  Willson,  U.  S.  N., 
has  subsequently  been  circulated  by  the  Navy  Recruiting 
Stations,  before  and  after  the  entry  of  the  United  States 
into  the  War. 

Also  I  found  a  silly  impression  persisting  among  the 
charming  Army  women : 

"Your  husband  does  not  like  us,"  they  voiced  their  be- 
lief. "He  made  derogatory  remarks  about  Army  women 
in  'The  House  of  Pride."; 

Jack  fairly  sizzled,  with  despairing  arms  flaying  the  air : 
"Don't  mind  my  violence  —  I  always  talk  with  my  hands 
—  it's  my  French,  I  guess.  —  But  these  people  make  me 
tired.  If  they'd  only  really  read  what  they  think  they're 
reading.  Because  I  have  a  bloodless,  sexless,  misanthropic, 


OUR  HAWAII  313 

misogamistic  mysogynist  disapprove  of  decollete  and 
dancing,  and  all  and  every  other  social  diversion  and 
custom,  I  myself  am  saddled  with  these  unnatural  pecu- 
liarities. A  merry  hell  of  a  lot  of  interesting  characters 
there  would  be  in  fiction  if  they  all  talked  alike  and  agreed 
with  one  another  and  their  author !  —  What's  a  poor  devil 
of  a  writer  to  do,  anyway?"  he  repeated  his  wail  of  nine 
years  earlier  at  Pearl  Lochs  when  "The  Iron  Heel"  had 
been  rejected  of  men.  "Of  course  I  like  Army  women  — 
just  as  I  like  other  women !" 

On  New  Year's  Eve,  we  attended  a  reception  in  the 
Throne  Room  of  the  old  Palace,  where  Queen  Liliuokalani 
sat  at  Governor  Pinkham's  right  hand.  "And  it's  the  first 
time  in  over  twenty  years  that  Her  Majesty  has  received 
in  this  room,"  he  whispered  his  satisfaction  with  what  he 
had  been  able  to  bring  about. 

Followed  a  great  military  ball  in  the  Armory,  dinner  and 
dance  at  the  Country  Club,  and  a  wild  night  of  fun  at 
Heinie's.  Nowhere  in  the  world  could  there  be  such  a 
New  Year  as  in  this  subtropical  paradise.  Rain  it  did, 
and  bountifully  —  a  tepid  torrent  of  liquid  jewels  in  the 
many-colored  lights  of  the  city  streets,  which  kept  no 
Pierrot  nor  Pierrette  indoors.  The  very  gutters  ran  colored 
streams,  what  of  the  showers  of  confetti. 

"Can  you  beat  it?"  Jack  murmured  when,  at  dawn, 
our  machine  threshed  hub-deep  in  water  down  our  long 
driveway  under  the  vine-clambered  coco-palms,  to  the 
ceaseless  rhythmic  impact  of  a  big  gray  surf  upon  our  sea 
wall. 

Carnival  Week  was  in  February  —  a  succession  of 
pageantry  opening  with  the  Mardi  Gras.  No  one  with 
steamer-fare  in  pocket  should  forego  Carnival  Week  in 
Honolulu.  The  unflagging  Governor  Pinkham  and  I  vied 
in  seeing  who  could  last  out  the  greater  number  of  occasions 
that  crowded  each  of  the  seven  days  from  morn  till  midnight 


3i4  OUR  HAWAII 

and  later ;  and  to  this  day  we  agree  to  disagree  as  to  which 
of  us  was  one  event  in  the  lead. 

Polo,  the  best  in  the  world,  automobile  races,  equine 
races,  took  place  at  Kapiolani  Park,  with  Diamond  Head, 
green  for  the  first  time  in  many  years  and  spilling  with 
waterfalls,  for  background ;  and  there  were  aquatic  contests 
at  the  harborside,  where  Duke  Kahanamoku  added  more 
emblems  to  his  shield  than  he  lost,  and  where  Mayor  Lane's 
slim  kinswoman,  Lucile  Legros,  won  over  the  famous 
Frances  Co  wells  from  the  Coast.  And  Jack  and  I  could 
not  refrain  from  working,  with  every  nerve  of  desire,  on 
behalf  of  our  Hawaiians  in  their  own  waters ! 

The  military  reviews  were  especially  imposing.  Briga- 
dier-General Samuel  I.  Johnson's  remarkable  National 
Guard,  which  he  had  made  second  to  none  in  the  Union, 
Jack  vowed  surpassed  the  showing  of  the  regulars ;  while 
others  declared  that  the  cadets  of  the  Kamehameha  School 
founded  by  Mrs.  Bernice  Pauahi  Bishop,  for  Hawaiians, 
put  both  regulars  and  militia  in  the  shade.  The  splendid 
work  that  had  been  done  with  the  Boy  Scouts  was  evi- 
denced by  their  orderly  discharge  of  their  Carnival  duties 
of  assistance  in  maintaining  order.  Punch  Bowl,  sprout- 
ing with  unwonted  verdure,  was  now  become  the  cradle 
of  Scout  as  well  as  militia  encampments.  James  Wilder, 
who  is  always  beaming,  beamed  harder  than  ever  at  praise 
of  the  Scouts,  in  whose  training  he  had  put  much  time 
and  endeavor. 

And  pa'u  riders  turned  out  in  full  panoply,  as  did  great 
floats  of  wondrous  construction  and  significance;  and 
there  were  historical  pageants  at  Kapiolani  Park  that 
left  little  to  be  desired  in  illustration  of  old  sports. 
Jack  was  especially  impressed  by  the  remarkable  spear- 
throwing  done  by  certain  descendants  of  warriors,  who 
had  not  allowed  their  valorous  traditions  to  rust.  And 
at  Aala  Park,  in  another  part  of  the  merry  metropolis, 
an  excellent  "  Midway  Pleasance"  furnished  entertain- 


OUR  HAWAII  315 

ment  that  was  anything  but  historical,  but  thoroughly 
enjoyable. 

In  train  came  a  succession  of  balls,  civic  as  well  as  mili- 
tary, in  the  enormous  Armory.  Every  moment  was  filled 
and  packed  down,  and  little  did  Honolulu  sleep  that  week. 
Jack  relinquished  all  work  and  accompanied  me  throughout 
the  whole  gay  rout,  sitting  the  long  night  sipping  soft 
drinks  and  an  occasional  "  small  beer,"  while  he  talked 
with  our  many  friends  and  shed  his  ever  benignant,  bright 
approval  upon  my  delight  in  dancing.  And  I,  in  turn, 
took  equal  pleasure  in  his  frequent  card-parties,  at  home 
and  elsewhere,  although  more  than  often  I  tried  not  to  worry 
that  he  sat  playing  long  hours  he  would  better  have  spent 
swimming  or  otherwise  keeping  fit.  "Oh,  you  run  along 
with  the  others,  Kid- Woman,"  he  would  smile,  with  a 
hand  on  my  arm.  "I'll  come  in  after  Jack  Hawes  and  I 
win  one  more  rubber." 

Lavish  entertaining  we  did  this  spring  and  summer  in 
the  old  house  at  Waikiki  —  luncheons,  dinners,  dances, 
card-parties,  teas  under  our  own  hau  tree,  with  ever  the 
swimming  between  whiles.  Sometimes,  after  the  day's 
round  of  social  events,  winding  up  with  dancing,  our 
guests  and  we  trooped  out  of  the  spacious,  half-open 
bungalow,  through  the  great  detached  lanai  roofed  with 
a  jungle-tangle  of  blossomy  hau  trees  old  in  story,  across 
the  lawn  bordered  with  low  young  Samoan  coco-palms 
planted  by  Arthur  Wilder  and  along  the  sea-wall  right-of- 
way  to  a  tiny  beach  two  gardens  away  toward  Diamond 
Head.  Here  we  slipped  into  the  sensuous  lapping  waters 
under  a  rust-gold  moon,  or  the  great  electric-blue  stars, 
and  swam  for  a  wonderful  hour. 

"The  Southern  Cross  rides  low,  dear  lass  .  .  .  and  the 
old  lost  stars  wheel  back,"  Jack  would  paraphrase  softly 
while  we  timed  our  strokes  for  the  diving  float  in  the  chan- 
nel. "What  shall  it  be,  Twin  Brother?  The  house  over 
there  is  for  sale.  Shall  I  buy  you  it,  now,  for  the  first  of 


3i6  OUR  HAWAII 

our  string  of  island  homes  ?  —  or  a  sweet  three- topmast 
schooner  after  the  War,  to  do  it  all  over  again,  only  better 
—  though  never  more  sweetly  than  in  the  dear  little  old 
tub  —  and  sail  on  round  the  world  as  we  love  to  plan?" 

What  other  choice  for  me,  who  had  heard  and  answered 
"the  beat  of  the  offshore  wind"?  The  three- topmast 
schooner,  by  every  wish,  with  all  it  implied  of  resumed  ad- 
venture overseas.  Our  dreams  had  been  rudely  cut  mid- 
most by  ill  health.  But  those  we  had  realized,  instead  of 
seeming  true,  were  still  wrapped  as  in  a  blue  and  rose 
glamour  of  untried  desires.  "  Which  way  I  feel  goes  to 
prove,"  I  wound  up  somewhat  of  the  above  to  Jack,  "that 
the  becoming  of  them,  as  far  as  they  went,  was  in  excess 
of  the  anticipation."  And  he,  to  withhold  me  from  the 
verge  of  sentimentality,  made  the  shocking  rejoinder : 
"You  mean  to  say,  —  am  I  right  ?  —  that  the  young  fuzz 
has  not  worn  off  your  enthusiasms  !  Never  did  I  see  woman 
who  wanted  to  go  to  so  many  places !" 

Ah  yes,  Jack  had  learned  full  well  to  "  loaf  "  in  the  tropics. 
With  his  comprehensive  knowledge,  mastery  of  his  imple- 
ments, and  his  alert  sense  of  form  and  color,  those  in- 
exorable thousand  words  a  day  consumed  little  energy; 
and  there  was  scant  exertion  in  his  habit  of  life  in  the  palm- 
furnished,  breezy  bungalow  of  wide  spaces,  and  the  deep 
gardens  of  hibiscus  and  lilies.  Too  little  exertion.  Too 
seldom  was  the  blue-butterfly  kimono  changed  for  swim- 
ming-suit or  riding  togs ;  too  often,  from  the  water,  I 
cast  solicitous  eyes  back  to  the  hammock  where,  out  of 
the  blue-figured  robe,  a  too  white  arm  waved  to  show  that 
he  was  watching  me  put  to  use  the  strokes  in  which  he 
had  coached  me.  "Oh,  yes  —  no  —  yes — no,  I  think  I'll 
hang  here  and  read,"  he  would  waver  between  two  im- 
pulsions. Or,  "No,  thank  you  —  I'll  read  instead  —  all 
this  war  stuff  I  want  to  catch  up  on.  I'm  glad  you  asked 
me,  though,"  half -wistfully,  "  —  you  forgot,  yesterday,  and 
went  in  alone."  Forgot,  no!  Never  once  did  I  forget. 


OUR  HAWAII  317 

I  was  avoiding  all  approach  to  the  "nagging"  we  still 
never  permitted  in  our  family  of  two. 

And  ever  the  War  pressed  upon  spirit  and  brain  and 
heart,  from  the  first  shock  to  his  belief  that  the  time  of 
great  wars  between  great  nations  was  past,  all  through  his 
undying  exasperation  with  the  powers  that  were,  which 
held  his  own  country  back  from  more  formidable  protest 
against  Hun  atrocity.  To  think  he  should  have  missed 
any  thrill  of  the  consummation  of  his  hope  to  see  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  in  France!  Again  and  again,  before, 
during,  and  after  that  last  visit  in  Hawaii,  have  I  heard 
him  solemnly  deliver  himself : 

" There's  only  one  end  to  this  conflict,  in  my  judgment; 
it  is  unthinkable  that  the  German  Idea  should  predominate 
and  survive  to  a  'place  in  the  sun.'  If  I  thought  there  was 
the  least  possibility  of  Germany  winning  in  this  struggle, 
I  promise  you  I  should  go  to  die  in  the  trenches  with 
France  and  her  Allies." 

Never  had  I  seen  him  more  deeply  stirred  than  when 
Harry  Strange  left  the  Honolulu  Gas  Company,  his  mother, 
and  his  children,  to  sail  for  England  to  join  the  colors, 
where,  having  earlier  distinguished  himself  in  the  Boer 
War,  he  was  soon  in  France.  After  being  thrice  wounded 
he  received  the  Military  Cross  and  mention  in  dispatches 
for  conspicuous  gallantry  on  the  Arras  Front.  To  cer- 
tain harsh  criticism  in  Honolulu  that  Harry  should  have 
left  his  dependents,  Jack  pleaded  with  blazing  eyes : 

"You  do  not  seem  to  understand:  He  had  to  go.  He 
walked  the  floor  night  after  night  trying  to  see  the  way 
out  —  the  right  way.  There  was  no  other  way  out,  for 
him,  than  the  one  he  took ;  he  could  not  have  done  other 
than  he  did.  ...  As  well  criticize  the  flame  that  burns, 
as  criticize  this  royal  thing  of  the  spirit  within  him  that 
drew  him  from  success,  and  love  of  children,  and  fat  se- 
curity, half  across  the  world  to  fling  himself  into  the  mael- 
strom of  battle  —  all  for  an  Idea." 


3i8  OUR  HAWAII 

As  for  Emma  Strange,  his  mother,  more  than  once  we 
heard  her  say  that  he  or  she  would  have  had  to  go  to  help 
England. 

That  Jack  London  was  not  in  Europe  as  war  correspond- 
ent was  due,  over  and  above  the  pressing  responsibilities 
that  kept  him  forever  writing,  writing,  to  the  fact  that  he 
saw  nothing  but  baffling  disappointment  and  failure  for 
correspondents  on  any  front.  ''Japan  sounded  the  death- 
knell  of  the  war  correspondent.  I  should  be  balked  of 
getting  what  I  went  after,  and  it  would  drive  me  madder 
than  I  was  in  Korea  and  Manchuria  in  1904.  You  re- 
member, I  came  home  in  the  middle  of  things  there,  simply 
because  of  my  disgust  at  being  unable  to  earn  my  salary 
from  the  newspaper  that  sent  me,  in  the  way  I  thought  it 
should  be  earned.  Marking  time  in  a  military  camp  is  not 
war  corresponding." 

All  during  these  last  months  of  his  life,  there  was  in 
Jack  the  widening  gratification  that  he  was  advancing 
in  his  conquest  of  the  heart  and  understanding  of  the  people 
of  Hawaii,  Hawaii-born  Anglo-Saxon  and  part  Hawaiian, 
and  the  ever  dear  and  dearer  Hawaiians  themselves. 

And  then,  one  day,  we  met  Mary  Low  —  Mary  Eliza 
Kipikane  Low  —  a  connection  of  the  Parker  family.  At 
a  midday  luau  in  a  seaside  garden  at  Kahala,  on  Dia- 
mond Head,  we  came  together  with  Mary  and,  as  if  it 
had  been  foreordained,  were  forthwith  adopted  by  her 
capacious  heart.  Like  a  devoted  elder  sister,  she  as- 
sumed a  sort  of  responsibility  for  us  twain  with  her  people. 
Only  an  eighth  Hawaiian,  no  malihini  would  be  competent 
to  detect  her  Polynesian  affinity.  But,  to  us,  the  royal 
arches  of  the  black  eyebrows  on  her  broad  forehead,  and  the 
high  aquiline  nose  and  imperious  lift  of  the  upper-lip  of 
her  small,  fine  mouth,  expounded  the  quintessence  of 
Polynesian  aristocracy  as  we  had  come  to  know  it  here 
and  under  the  Equator. 


OUR  HAWAII  319 

Already  Jack  was  in  the  way  of  becoming  ineffaceably 
associated  with  the  interests  and  affections  of  Hawaii  - 
was  there  not  more  than  a  hint  of  intention  to  enshrine 
him  in  the  inner  circle  of  that  seclusively  exclusive  lodge, 
Chiefs  of  Hawaii  ?  —  and  he  was  bound  in  good  time  to 
come  into  his  own  with  them  all ;  but  Mary,  bless  her  for- 
ever, hastened  the  day,  else  he  might  have  faded  back  from 
the  world  ere  he  had  known  the  "Kamaaina"  that  had 
begun  to  form  upon  their  lips. 

At  this  poi-luncheon,  as  a  noonday  luau  is  now  called, 
demand  was  made  of  Jack  for  a  speech.  "My  Aloha  for 
Hawaii"  was  his  topic,  and  he  gave  a  glowing  brief  resume 
of  the  history  of  that  aloha  nui  in  his  life.  And  then 
Prince  Cupid,  in  a  brilliant  and  logical  address,  delivered 
a  tribute  to  the  incalculable  gifts  Jack  had  brought  to 
the  Islands  with  his  discerning  brain  that  had  interpreted 
to  the  world  much  of  the  true  inwardness  of  hitherto  mis- 
understood aspects  of  the  country  and  its  life  and  people. 

And  upon  a  later  occasion,  a  luau  at  the  home  of  the 
Prince  and  Princess,  Mayor  Lane  humorously  declared,  to 
hearty  applause,  that  he  should  like  to  nominate  Jack 
London  to  succeed  him  in  office.  For  often  Jack,  rare 
genius  of  previsioning,  and  with  the  added  advantage  of 
perspective,  had  thought  a  step  in  advance  of  the  dwellers 
in  the  Islands,  and  had  fearlessly  expressed  his  earnest 
convictions.  A  few  Hawaiian-born  Americans  have  real- 
ized this,  one  or  two  even  going  the  extraordinary  length 
of  consulting  his  opinions  upon  how  best  to  apply  their 
millions  to  benefit  their  sea-girt  land  which  they  love  better 
than  mere  personal  gain.  In  time,  as  in  case  of  Jack's 
protest  on  the  idleness  of  the  Federal  Leprosarium,  his 
ideas  and  protests  had  been  substantiated ;  and  none  so 
ready  as  these  people  to  proclaim  him  right. 


320  OUR  HAWAII 

A  PROGRESS  AROUND  THE  BIG  ISLAND 

"Why  can  we  three  not  go  around  Hawaii  together? 
I  will  take  you  to  some  Hawaiian  homes,  and  you  will 
love  them  and  they  you,"  urged  Mary  Low,  perhaps  the 
third  time  we  met. 

"Why  not?"  Jack  brightly  took  her  up.  "I'm  ready 
as  soon  as  I  finish  'Michael,  Brother  of  Jerry.'  When 
shall  it  be?  Set  the  date.  Any  time  you  say  —  eh? 
Mate?" 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  on  the  Big  Island  we  spent 
six  weeks  going  from  house  to  house  of  the  Hawaiians,  some 
strangers  to  us,  some  old  acquaintances,  in  a  round  of  en- 
tertainment and  hospitality  that  set  us  on  tiptoe  with  the 
unstudied  human  beauty  and  wonder  of  it  all. 

"I  question  —  do  you  really  get  what  this  means  to  you 
and  me,  in  our  present  and  future  relation  to  Hawaii?" 
Jack  would  reiterate  with  that  adorable  eagerness  that  I 
share  in  his  vision.  "I  have  read  more,  listened  to  more, 
than  have  you,  of  the  ways  of  the  people  in  the  past 
generations  —  of  the  royal  progresses  of  their  princes,  their 
kings,  and  their  queens.  This  way  of  ours,  led  by  Mary 
Low,  is  of  the  nature  of  a  royal  progress,  but  with  the  dif- 
ference that,  not  being  born  into  the  honor,  it  is  up  to  us 
to  be  worthy  of  its  being  thrust  upon  us.  Do  you  get  me? 
—  Oh,  pardon  my  insistence,"  he  would  relax  his  high, 
sparkling  tension,  "but  I  do  so  want  you,  my  sharer,  to 
enjoy  with  me  the  knowledge  of  what  all  this  means  for 
you  and  me." 

Ah,  I  did,  I  did.  And  I  do.  My  own  heart  and  intel- 
ligence, further  quickened  by  his  still  more  sensitive  divi- 
nation, lent  to  the  otherwise  vastly  interesting  experience 
an  appreciation  that  will  abide  for  all  my  days.  The 
imperishable  charm  of  what  it  meant  and  means  has  come 
back  a  thousandfold,  pressed  down  and  overflowing,  his 
share  and  mine  together,  to  me  in  my  singleness. 


OUR  HAWAII  321 

"  Mary  Low  is  a  wonder,  I  tell  you ! "  Thus  Jack,  elate. 
"She  is  a  mine  of  interest  and  information.  Her  mind  a 
kingdom  is.  I  haven't  talked  with  a  woman  in  Hawaii, 
of  whatever  nationality  or  blend  of  nationalities,  whose 
brain  can  eclipse  Sister  Mary's  for  vision  of  the  enormous 
dramatic  connotations  of  the  race  as  it  has  been  and  is 
being  lived  out  right  here  on  this  soil  which  you  and 
I  love.  Listen  here,"  breaking  off  to  read  me  his  scrib- 
bled notes,  "  think  of  the  story  this  will  make — why,  I 
want  to  write  a  dozen  yarns  all  at  once.  I  become  des- 
perate with  my  inability  to  do  so,  when,  any  hour  of  the 
day,  Mary  chats  about  say  the  Parker  Ranch  history,  or, 
for  that  matter,  almost  any  big  ranch  on  this  isle  of  ranches. 
She  might,  with  her  memory  and  adjustment  of  values 
and  her  imagination,  have  been  a  great  writer  of  fiction." 

And  so,  in  such  company,  we  disembarked  one  morning 
before  daylight  on  the  wharf  at  Kailua,  Hawaii,  where, 
far  cry  to  the  old  time  Goodhue  surrey,  in  the  darkness 
we  made  our  way  toward  an  electric-lighted  1916  motor 
that  had  cost  its  owner,  Robert  Hind,  Mary's  brother-in- 
law,  some  eight  thousand  dollars  to  land  here  from  the 
East. 

Effortlessly  we  surmounted  the  familiar  road,  to  a  point 
where  our  .way  turned  to  the  left.  In  a  gray  car  in  a  gray- 
and-silver  dawn  we  passed  the  home  of  the  Maguires 
(Mrs.  Maguire  is  sister  to  Mary  Low  and  Mrs.  Hind), 
and  with  Mauna  Kea's  icy  peak  flushing  in  our  eyes,  pur- 
sued the  drive  toward  Parker  Ranch.  Bending  off  to  the 
right  for  a  remembered  sugar-loaf  hill,  Puuwaawaa,  we 
came  to  the  home  of  the  Hinds,  and  there  spent  a  fortnight 
with  Robert  Hind  and  his  beautiful  wife,  Hannah,  whose 
eyes  and  smile  Jack  more  than  once  preserved,  for  what 
time  may  be,  in  written  romances.  Their  sons  and 
daughters  were  absent  in  eastern  colleges.  Here,  in  ter- 
raced gardens  of  lawns  and  every  flower  and  plant  that 
will  grow  at  this  27oo-foot  elevation,  we  worked  and 
Y 


322  OUR  HAWAII 

played ;  and  each  morning,  before  breakfast,  Jack  and  I 
made  it  a  point  to  attend  the  toilette  of  a  great  peacock, 
whose  absorption  in  the  preening  of  his  black-opal  plum- 
age was  little  disturbed  by  our  admiring  scrutiny  and 
conversation.  And  there  were  horseback  rides,  and  long 
trips  in  the  machine.  One  of  these  picnics  was  to  the 
great  heiau  of  Honaunau,  south  of  Kealakekua  Bay. 

To  reach  Honaunau,  one  is  obliged  to  leave  a  vehicle 
of  any  kind  and  take  to  the  saddle.  Horses  were  fur- 
nished by  Miss  Ethel  Paris,  an  energetic  young  woman  who 
is  capable  of  running  a  cattle  ranch  unaided  if  need  arise, 
and  who  entertained  us  right  royally.  This  is  the  most 
famous  and  imposing  of  Hawaii's  ruins,  covering  nearly 
seven  acres.  The  walls  of  the  Temple  of  Refuge,  still 
intact,  protected  thousands  of  fugitives  in  the  olden  days, 
and  measure  a  dozen  feet  in  height  by  eighteen  in  thick- 
ness. Those  of  the  Tower  of  London  retire  into  insignifi- 
cance before  this  savage  architectural  achievement. 

On  this  night  we  slept  at  the  Tommy  Whites',  following 
a  luau  at  their  house.  Here,  to  our  joy,  we  found  Mother 
Shipman,  carrying  on  a  little  "progress"  of  her  own;  and 
her  greeting  was:  "My  own  son  and  daughter!"  Next 
day  there  was  still  another  luau,  mauka  at  the  old  Roy 
place,  Waihou,  where  again  we  met  the  Walls.  Mrs.  Roy, 
mother  of  both  Mrs.  Shipman  and  Mrs.  White,  had  passed 
away  several  years  earlier.  Her  garden  remained,  more 
beautiful  than  ever  in  its  fragrant  riot  of  roses  and  blumeria 
and  heliotrope,  and  the  begonias  had  surpassed  all  prom- 
ising. 

Kiholo,  seaside  retreat  of  the  Hinds,  was  enjoyed  for 
a  night  and  a  day  —  miles  down-slope  over  the  lava ;  and 
again  we  drove  to  Parker  Ranch,  guests  of  Mary  and 
Hannah's  Aunt  Kalili,  Mrs.  Martin  Campbell.  The 
great  holding,  nearly  doubled  in  acreage,  is  now  the  fortune 
of  one  tiny  part-Hawaiian  lad,  Richard  Smart.  For  Thelma 
Parker  had  sacrificed  herself  for  love  in  a  tragic  marriage, 


OUR  HAWAII  323 

and  died  untimely,  survived  by  but  one  of  her  children, 
who,  the  father  shortly  following  his  child-wife  to  the  grave, 
is  now  sole  heir  to  the  estate.  On  the  side  of  Mauna  Kea,  in 
the  old  family  cemetery  walled  with  sepulchral  cypresses,  rest 
the  ashes  of  beautiful  Thelma,  taken  there  with  all  fitting 
pomp,  mourned  by  every  Hawaiian  heart  born  on  her  lands. 
Standing  beside  her  grave,  we  tried  to  vision  that  long  fu- 
neral cortege  winding  up  the  green  miles  she  had  so  often 
galloped  wild  in  her  childhood.  Poor  little  maid  —  one 
is  thankful  that  at  least  she  had  that  wonderful  maiden- 
hood. 

Near  the  cemetery  is  Mana,  old  deserted  home  of  Parkers, 
rambling  in  a  great  courtyard.  Mary  wept  amidst  the 
ruined  fountains,  for  here  her  own  early  years  had  been 
spent.  An  Hawaiian  caretaker  let  us  in,  and  through 
the  koa  rooms  we  wandered,  touching  almost  reverently 
the  treasures  of  generations  —  furniture,  pianos,  china, 
and  moldy  albums  of  photographs.  One  curio  especially 
appealed  to  Jack,  who  uses  a  similar  incident  in  "Michael, 
Brother  of  Jerry"  -  a  whale-tooth,  sailor-carven,  with  an 
inscription  referring  to  the  sinking  of  the  Essex  by  a  cow- 
whale.  Coinciden tally,  a  man,  claiming  to  be  a  survivor 
of  the  Essex,  died  in  Honolulu  about  this  time  of  our 
visit  to  Mana. 

It  was  a  distinct  pleasure  to  learn  that  Frank  Woods,  of 
Kohala,  had  lately  bought  the  old  place  for  his  wife,  Eva, 
who  is  a  daughter  of  the  famous  Colonel  Sam  Parker, 
Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  during  the  reign  of  Liliuokalani. 
The  early  home  of  the  original  Parker,  built  with  his  own 
hands,  stands  in  a  corner  of  the  inclosure.  One  aches 
with  the  romance  of  it  all,  and  would  like  to  write  an 
entire  volume  upon  the  history  of  the  Ranch  that  started 
on  this  spot. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter  we  met  again,  and,  among  other 
events,  recalled  Jack's  accident  on  the  old  gray  horse. 
To  our  astonishment,  we  were  told  that  the  animal,  still 


324  OUR  HAWAII 

alive,  ever  afterward  had  to  be  given  up  as  unsafe  for  the 
young  folks.  It  will  remain  a  mystery  for  all  time.  "It's 
like  an  old  Morgan  mare  my  father  had/'  Jack  said.  "  One 
day,  when  she  was  about  twenty,  she  kicked  up  her  heels, 
and  with  tail  and  head  straight  up,  vaulted  the  fences  and 
ran  away,  clean  mad." 

At  the  historic  old  port,  Kawaihae,  where  the  Ranch  does 
its  shipping,  we  were  entertained  for  luncheon  by  pretty 
Mrs.  Todd,  and  shown  Queen  Emma's  home,  eloquent  with 
decay,  still  dignified  in  the  age-wreck  of  its  palm  gardens.  It 
was  off  Kawaihae,  in  a  gale,  that  Captain  Cook's  Resolu- 
tion sprung  her  foremast,  which  caused  him  to  put  in  at 
Kealakekua  Bay  for  repairs,  to  his  doom.  Only  the  heat 
prevented  us  from  making  an  effort  to  walk  to  the  ruins 
of  the  important  heiau  of  Puukohala,  erected  upon  advice 
of  the  priests,  to  secure  to  Kamehameha  the  Kingdom  of 
Hawaii. 

Picking  up  our  mail  on  the  way  through  Waimea,  Jack 
found  his  first  author's  copy  of  "The  Little  Lady  of  the 
Big  House"  and  also  of  "The  Acorn  Planter." 

"Well,  here's  'The  Acorn  Planter,'  Mate,"  he  said. 
"It  isn't  lost,  even  if  it  was  considered  too  primitive  for 
the  Bohemian  Club's  Grove  Play.  —  Darn  it  —  I  wish 
they  could  have  seen  their  way  to  the  thing.  I  like  its 
big  motif,  myself." 

Upon  our  final  leave-taking  of  Puuwaawaa,  the  Hinds' 
open-handed  hospitality  sent  us  in  one  of  their  cars  to 
Hilo.  On  the  way,  Mrs.  Tommy  White  ran  out  with  an 
addition  to  our  lunch  —  a  marvelous  cold  red  fish,  the  ula- 
ula,  baked  in  ti-leaves,  and  a  huge  cake,  compounded  of 
fresh-grated,  newly  plucked  coconut  and  other  delicious 
things  we  could  not  guess.  Of  course  we  visited  the 
Maguires,  as  well  as  the  Goodhues  down  their  lovely  wind- 
ing lane.  And  we  must  slip  in  for  a  moment  to  the  wide 
unglassed  window-ledge,  to  gaze  once  more  from  that 
vantage  upon  the  divine  Blue  Flush. 


OUR  HAWAII  325 

And  again  we  passed  beyond  the  Blue  Flush  of  Kona, 
and  sped  over  the  road  traveled  by  the  Congressional 
party  the  year  before,  through  the  village  of  Pahala,  and 
on  up  Mauna  Loa  for  an  all-too-short  stopover  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Julian  Monserrat,  on  Kapapala  Ranch  in  the 
Kau  District,  before  pushing  on  to  the  Volcano. 

Different  again  from  other  lava  deserts  of  the  island 
is  this  of  Kau,  made  up  of  flow  upon  succeeding  flow  from 
Mauna  Loa,  in  color  black  and  bluish-gray.  Vast  fields  of 
cane  alternate  with  arid  stretches,  and  west  of  Pahala  is  a 
sisal  plantation  and  mill,  the  most  extensive  on  the 
Island.  Mauka  of  the  road  one  sees  a  fertile  swath  of 
cane  growing  on  a  mud-flow  of  Mauna  Loa  at  an  eleva- 
tion of  1 200  feet.  This  mud-flow  was  originally  a  section 
of  clay  marshland  which,  in  1868,  was  jarred  loose  by  an 
earthquake  from  the  bluff  at  the  head  of  a  valley.  In 
but  a  few  moments  it  had  swept  down  three  miles  in  a  wet 
landslide  half  a  mile  wide  and  thirty  feet  deep.  Immediately 
afterward  a  tidal  wave  inundated  the  entire  coast  of  Kau, 
while  Kilauea,  joining  the  general  celebration,  disgorged 
lava  through  underground  fissures  toward  the  southwest. 

And  now,  full  majestic  lies  Kau  under  the  deep-blue  sky, 
and  as  majestic  moves  the  deep-blue,  white-crested  ocean 
that  washes  its  lava-bound  feet.  From  the  Monserrats'  roof 
we  made  a  side-trip  to  the  coast,  where  in  the  black  sands  we 
gathered  the  "breeding  stones"  which  the  old-time  natives 
believed  to  reproduce  themselves.  Being  full  of  holes, 
these  large  pebbles  secrete  smaller  pebbles,  which  roll  out 
at  odd  times,  thus  furnishing  grist  for  the  fancy  of  simple 
folk.  Jack,  immensely  taken  with  the  conceit,  in  no  time 
had  several  brown  urchins  earning  nickels  collecting  a 
supply  which,  he  declared,  he  was  going  to  turn  loose  on  the 
Ranch  at  home.  Another  curiosity  in  the  neighborhood  is 
a  fresh-water  pool  just  inside  the  high  beach  where  the 
Pacific  swell  breaks.  One  of  the  attractions  of  Kau  is  its 
good  plover  hunting. 


326  OUR  HAWAII 

A  pretty  story  is  told  of  a  small  fishing  place,  Manilo, 
near  Honuapo  on  the  coast.  A  trick  of  the  current  eternally 
brought  flotsam  of  various  sorts  from  the  direction  of 
Puna  into  the  little  indentation  at  Manilo.  Over  and 
above  the  driftage  of  bodies  of  warriors  who  had  been 
slain  and  thrown  over  the  cliffs  along  the  coast,  the  tiny 
inlet  became  famous  as  a  sort  of  post  office  for  the  lovers  of 
Puna,  whose  messages,  in  the  form  of  hala  or  maile  leis, 
inclosed  in  calabashes,  could  dependably  be  sent  to  their 
sweethearts  in  Kau. 

Near  Punaluu,  the  landing  place  for  East  Kau,  are  the 
remains  of  a  couple  of  heiaus  —  Punaluunui  and  Kanee- 
leele,  said  to  have  been  connected  in  their  workings  with 
the  great  Wahaula  heiau,  of  Puna. 

And  thus  we  merely  glanced  through  the  District,  making 
mental  notes  for  a  return. 

The  Monserrats',  on  Kapapala  Ranch,  is  another  of  the 
homes  that  quaintly  combine  the  lines  and  traditions  of 
prim  New  England  architecture  with  a  lavish  charm  of 
sub  tropic  treatment  of  interior  and  garden  compound. 
In  the  latter,  high-edged  aloofly  with  cypress  and  euca- 
lyptus from  the  winds  of  the  surrounding  amplitude  of  far- 
flung,  treeless  mountain  areas,  one  feels  bewilderingly  lifted 
apart  and  set  aside,  amidst  an  abandon  of  flowers,  from 
the  rest  of  the  kingly  island. 

Julian  Monserrat,  with  keen  appreciation  of  Hawaii's 
turbulent  history,  filled  Jack  with  valuable  material  for 
fiction. 

And  from  this  Ranch,  one  may  ride  to  the  summit 
of  Mauna  Loa,  which  is  overtopped  by  its  sister  peak  only 
by  the  few  hundred  feet  height  of  small  cones  in  Mauna 
Kea's  immense  crater.  But  Mary  Low's  time  was  limited, 
and  there  was  still  so  much  ahead  of  us,  that  this  venture, 
too,  was  set  forward  into  the  ever  receding  allure  of  future 
re  turnings. 

Still  another  sumptuous  luau,  at  which  we  came  in  contact 


OUR  HAWAII  327 

with  some  of  the  Pahala  neighbors,  and  we  set  out  for 
Kilauea,  where,  in  broad  daylight,  at  last  we  beheld  the 
bursting,  beating  wonder  of  her  heart  of  lava  quite  as 
blood-red  as  all  its  painted  or  sculptured  imagings.  Thus 
it  must  have  been  when  a  churchman  half  a  century  ago 
wrote : 

"Wine  of  the  wrath  of  God,  which  is  poured  out  without  mixture 
into  the  cup  of  His  indignation." 

We  amused  our  fancy  with  trying  to  believe  that  this 
unusual  manifestation  was  the  reward  of  certain  offerings, 
of  flowers  and  tid-bits  saved  from  the  Monserrat  luau, 
which  Mary  and  ourselves  cast  into  the  burning  lake ! 

From  Hilo,  where  our  Shipman  family  once  more  enfolded 
us,  even  to  Uncle  Alec,  the  dear,  we  made  another  flying 
trip  down  the  Puna  Coast,  leaving  Pahoa  behind  on  our 
second  quest  into  idyllic  Kalapana  by  the  turquoise  sea. 
Here  the  natives  are  still  " natives"  in  simple  mode  of  life 
and  attitude  toward  the  same,  and  here  one  finds,  at  the 
village  of  Kaimu,  what  is  said  to  be  the  largest  grove  of 
coconut  palms  in  the  Islands.  On  the  high-piled  crescent 
of  sand,  overrun  by  a  blossoming  vine,  under  the  angled 
pillars  of  the  great  grove  lolled  a  scattered  group  of 
Hawaiians.  From  the  noble  silvered  head  of  one  of  the 
benevolent  old  men  Jack  bought  me  a  coral-red  lei,  one  of 
a  sort  seldom  seen  these  latter  days  in  Hawaii  —  a  solid 
cable  full  an  inch  in  diameter,  made  by  laboriously  per- 
forating, below  the  center,  hard  red  berries  or  seeds,  re- 
sembling the  black-eyed  Susan,  but  smaller,  and  sewing 
these  close  together  around  a  cord. 

The  village  of  Kalapana,  farther  south,  supports  quite 
a  large  population,  and  is  very  lovely  with  its  fine  growth 
of  coconut,  puhala,  and  monkey-pod  trees.  Near  by  are 
to  be  seen  the  niu  moe,  or  sleeping-coconuts  —  palms  that 
are  bent,  when  young,  by  visiting  chiefs,  and  thereafter 
called  by  the  names  of  the  chiefs. 


328  OUR  HAWAII 

Kalapana  landing  has  become  so  rough  that  it  is  used 
only  for  canoes,  and  not  far  off  rises  a  bluff  from  out  the 
sea.  From  a  little  inshore  dell  we  clambered  a  gigantic 
litter  of  bowlders  to  the  plateau  of  this  bluff,  and  looking 
down  from  the  top  could  glimpse  shoals  of  large  fish 
directly  below  in  deep  water.  Jack,  bargaining  for  raw 
fish  at  a  native  hut,  missed  this  side-diversion,  which  in- 
cluded the  exploring  of  a  rocky  tunnel  beginning  midway 
of  the  plateau,  its  mouth  surrounded  by  broken  old  stone 
fences.  Reached  by  this  eerie  passage  is  a  large  chamber, 
once  used  as  a  place  of  refuge.  The  tunnel,  made  winding 
so  that  spears  might  not  be  cast  after  the  fleeing,  works  out 
from  the  main  chamber  to  a  place  on  the  cliff,  high  above 
the  sea.  There  is  also,  in  this  neighborhood,  the  remnant 
of  the  Niukukahi  heiau.  From  Kalapana  runs  a  native  trail 
to  the  Volcano,  but  no  road  farther  than  the  village  itself. 

That  night  we  spent  in  Kapoho,  to  the  north,  the  beauti- 
ful old  home  of  Henry  K.  Lyman,  whom  we  had  known 
for  some  time,  Road  Supervisor  of  the  Puna  District,  and 
part-Hawaiian,  descended  from  the  old  missionary  stock, 
and  a  most  attractive  and  interesting  personality.  At 
the  Chicago  Convention  of  Delegates,  he  was  affectionately 
known  as  Prince  of  Kapoho.  And  right  princely  does  the 
tall,  suave-mannered  gentleman  live  in  the  lovely  house 
of  his  childhood. 

Not  far  away  is  a  famous  spring  in  the  lava-rock,  always 
at  blood  heat,  which  forms  a  bath  sixty  feet  long  by 
thirty  wide,  and  twenty-five  deep.  Also  near  Kapoho  is 
Green  Lake,  a  deep  pond  in  a  volcanic  cone,  in  which  it  is 
said  the  bodies  of  swimmers  under  water  show  brilliant  in 
shades  of  blue  and  green.  And  in  this  environ,  on  a  verdant 
bluff  above  the  sea,  is  the  ruin  of  the  Wahaula  heiau,  the 
last  where  idolatry  was  extensively  practiced.  It  is  said 
to  have  been  builded  by  Paao,  a  powerful  priest,  in  the 
eleventh  century.  This  temple,  by  the  way,  is  the  original 
of  the  restored  model  in  the  Bishop  Museum  at  Honolulu. 


OUR  HAWAII  329 

Many  lava  trees  are  to  be  seen  in  the  Puna  District  — 
trees  once  surrounded  and  preserved  by  upstanding  lava  — 
great  vases  sprouting  from  their  tops  with  living  growth. 
Certain  emerald-green  hills  seen  from  the  lanai  showed  as 
if  sculptured  by  the  hand  of  man;  and  it  is  not  unlikely 
that  they  were  fortifications  in  their  day.  This  Puna 
coast  is  packed  with  beauty  and  historical  interest.  Sitting 
on  the  fragrant  lanai  at  dusk,  listening  to  a  serenade  by 
Henry  Lyman's  plantation  boys  after  their  day  in  the 
canefields,  Jack  assured  me  we  should  come  back  to  ex- 
plore Puna  to  heart's  content. 

In  the  morning  our  host  drove  his  grateful  guests  to 
Hilo,  in  a  steady  downpour  that  almost  made  a  motor- 
boat  of  his  car.  At  Hilo  we  boarded  the  train  for 
Paauilo,  the  end  of  the  railroad,  and  were  confirmed  in 
our  belief  that  Kakina's  brain  had  conceived  one  of  the 
world's  wonder  railway  routes. 

From  Paauilo  Mr.  Peter  Naquin,  young  manager  of 
two  big  sugar  plantations,  took  us  to  Honokaa  above 
the  sea,  whence  we  had  ascended  to  Louissons'  eight 
years  before.  Next  day  Mr.  Naquin  and  his  rosy  wife 
carried  us  on  to  their  other  plantation  home  at  Kukui- 
haele,  an  enormous  house,  sedately  paneled  the  height 
of  its  gloomy  walls,  and  set  in  a  terraced  park  of  lawns 
and  umbrageous  trees.  But  the  gravest  Scotch  architec- 
ture of  fun-decrying  managers  of  eld  could  not  dampen 
our  spirits,  and  a  contented  time  we  had  in  the  dark 
interior,  playing  cards  by  a  large  fireplace  of  an  eve- 
ning, and  working  by  day,  meanwhile  delaying  for  the  un- 
obliging weather  to  clear,  that  we  might  see  Waipio  and 
Waimanu  valleys  near  at  hand.  And  Jack,  who  ever 
sought  argument,  in  the  young  couple  found  an  adequate 
grindstone  upon  which  to  sharpen  his  faculties,  both 
being  exceedingly  up-to-date  in  methods  of  reasoning 
as  well  as  information.  "Mrs.  Naquin,"  Jack  praised, 


330  OUR  HAWAII 

"is  the  most  logical  woman  I  have  met  for  some  time- 
quite  extraordinarily  logical,  indeed." 

From  the  deck  of  the  Kilauea  the  previous  spring,  Mr. 
Thurston  had  pointed  out  these  grand  valleys,  telling  me 
that  above  all  places  of  beauty  and  interest  in  Hawaii  we 
must  not  miss  them.  If  possible,  he  urged,  rather  than 
enter  by  trail,  surf  in  from  seaward  in  canoes.  This  latter 
we  had  hoped  to  do ;  but  the  natives  reported  too  great  a 
swell  from  the  continued  bad  weather.  Moreover,  from 
the  almost  incessant  rains,  the  trail  up  the  pali  out  of 
Waipio  into  Waimanu  was  not  considered  any  safer  than 
the  beaches.  But  one  day,  riding  in  a  drizzle,  Jack  and  I 
happened  upon  the  broad,  steep  trail  into  Waipio,  and 
followed  it  down  into  a  sunnier  level,  meeting  strings  of 
ascending  mules  laden  with  garden  produce.  This  was  one 
of  the  prettiest  little  adventures  we  two  ever  had  together, 
dropping  down  the  declivity  into  the  sequestered  vale  that 
opened  wondrously  as  we  progressed  to  the  lovely  banks 
of  a  wooded  river  that  wound  to  the  sea,  widening  to  meet 
the  salt  surf.  On  its  banks  we  could  see  and  hear  the 
ringing  sweet  voices  of  wahines  at  their  washing  and  babies 
at  play. 

At  the  head  of  this  great  cleft  in  the  coast  nestles  the 
half -deserted,  half-ruined  village  of  Waipio,  with  behind 
it  a  tremendous  rock  bastion  veiled  in  waterfalls  to  its 
mist-hidden  summit.  We  rode  on  across  river-shallows  to  a 
pathway  once  sacred  to  the  sorcerers,  kahunas,  the  which 
no  layman  then  dared  to  profane  with  his  foot.  Only  the 
approaching  twilight  held  us  back  from  a  beach  trail  that 
leads  to  a  clump  of  tall  coconuts,  marking  the  site  of  a  fa- 
mous temple  of  refuge  for  this  section  of  Hawaii,  Puuhonua, 
built  as  long  ago  as  the  thirteenth  century,  with  Lono  for 
deity.  About  1790  it  was  destroyed  by  a  Kauai  king. 
I  shall  never  cease  to  deplore  the  weather  that  prevented 
us  from  seeing  more  of  Waipio  and  climbing  the  trail, 
stark  above  our  heads,  into  Waimanu. 


I 


(i)  The  Peninsula.     (2)  The  Hobron  Bungalow.     (3)  The  Snark,  and  the  owner 

ashore. 


OUR  HAWAII  331 

This  day,  moving  along  the  bases  of  the  mighty  precipices, 
we  planned  happily  how  we  should  some  day  come  here, 
restore  one  of  the  abandoned  cottages  and  its  garden,  and 
live  for  a  while  without  thought  of  time.  What  a  place 
for  quietude  and  work.  Even  Jack  seemed  to  welcome  the 
idea  of  such  seclusion  and  repose.  Little  as  he  ever  in- 
clined toward  folding  his  pinions  for  long,  Hawaii  stayed 
them  more  than  any  other  land.  "You  can't  beat  the 
Ranch  in  California— it's  a  sweet  land,"  he  would  stanchly 
defend,  "but  I'd  like  to  spend  a  great  deal  of  my  time  down 
here." 

An  accession  of  the  storm  began  tearing  out  the  road  to 
Honokaa,  and  even  a  section  of  the  plantation  railway 
which  skirts  the  seaward  bluffs.  That  repaired,  we  heeded 
the  warning  of  Mr.  Naquin,  aware  of  our  schedule,  that 
we  might  not  be  able  to  leave  for  weeks  if  we  did  not  avail 
ourselves  of  this  route.  And  so,  in  a  heavy  downpour  and 
wind  that  turned  our  futile  umbrellas  inside-out,  we  made 
the  several  miles  in  an  open  roadster  on  the  track,  the 
spanning  of  rain-washed  gulches  recalling  our  flume-coast- 
ing of  1907. 

Eventually,  after  an  equally  drowning  automobile 
passage  over  the  roads  of  our  journey  of  years  earlier,  we 
arrived  once  more  at  Waimea,  on  the  Parker  Ranch. 
Here,  turning  off  into  North  Kohala,  the  machine  emerged 
into  better  weather  and  dryer  roads  along  the  flanks  of  the 
Kohala  Mountains,  which  are  over  5000  feet  in  elevation. 

Both  Jack  and  I,  carelessly  enough,  had  somehow 
pictured  the  North  Kohala  District  as  in  the  main  a  wilder- 
ness of  impassable  gulches.  And  to  be  sure  this  feature 
is  not  lacking,  for  the  district  embraces  some  glorious 
country  that  is  a  continuation  of  the  gulch  and  valley 
scenery  of  which  Waipio  and  Waimanu  form  part. 

So  imagine  our  surprise  to  find  ourselves  at  the  Frank 
Woods'  home,  Kahua,  on  a  magnificent  green- terraced 


332  OUR  HAWAII 

sweep  from  mountain  top  to  sea  rim,  in  the  midst  of  a 
ranch  or  conglomeration  of  ranches  covering  many  thou- 
sands of  acres,  whose  volcanic  rack  had  been  rounded  by 
the  ages  and  clothed  with  pasture.  Frank  Woods,  in 
laying  out  his  grounds,  had  roughly  been  guided  by  the 
natural  lines  of  the  incline,  and  from  his  house,  where 
the  living-room  extended  full  width  overlooking  the  splen- 
did panorama,  it  was  hard  to  discern,  except  by  the  finer 
grass  of  his  lawns,  where  garden  and  wild  ended  and  began. 
Never  have  I  seen  Jack  so  pleased  over  any  gardening  as 
with  the  wide  undulating  spaces  of  Kahua.  And  in  this 
house  of  valuable  antiques  we  slept  in  a  high  koa  bedstead, 
crested  with  the  royal  arms,  that  had  belonged  to  Queen 
Emma. 

Motoring  across  to  the  northwest  coast,  our  surprise 
grew.  A  perfect  road  ran  through  an  ordered  landscape 
that  was  unescapably  English  in  its  general  trimness 
as  well  as  in  the  architecture  of  its  buildings.  Of  course, 
there  was  everywhere  a  wavering  expanse  of  the  fair  green 
cane,  and  near  the  oceanside  were  ranged  the  sugar  mills  of 
Kohala.  At  the  town  of  Kohala,  where  Kamehameha  began 
his  conquesting  career,  one  happens  suddenly  upon  the  orig- 
inal Kamehameha  statue,  spear  in  hand,  helmet  and  cape 
gilded  to  simulate  yellow  feathers.  This  figure,  by  T.  R. 
Gould  of  Boston,  cast  in  Italy,  was  lost  coming  around  Cape 
Horn.  The  exact  duplicate,  which  stands  before  Honolulu's 
Court  House,  was  ordered  and  set  up  previous  to  the  salving 
of  the  original  from  the  wreck,  which  was  sold  to  the 
Hawaiian  Government. 

The  rich  plantations  formerly  depended  upon  rainfall 
for  irrigation;  but  in  1905  and  1906  they  became  inde- 
pendent of  this  more  or  less  sporadic  source  by  construct- 
ing the  Kohala  Ditch  on  the  order  of  those  of  Maui  and 
Kauai.  The  indefatigable  M.  M.  O'Shaughnessy  was 
chief  engineer  of  this  nine  miles  of  tunnel-building  and 
fourteen  of  open  waterway,  that  supplies  five  plantations. 


OUR  HAWAII  333 

He  was  assisted  by  Jorgen  Jorgensen,  whose  own  remark- 
able Waiahole  Tunnel  and  ditch  on  Oahu,  aggregating 
nearly  19,000  feet,  we  had  seen ;  and  P.  W.  P.  Bluett,  whom 
we  visited  following  our  stay  with  Mr.  Woods. 

Mr.  Bluett  took  us  a-horseback  up  the  mountain  to  show 
us  this  Kohala  Ditch,  and  also  the  second  great  engineering 
feat,  of  his  own  designing  and  supervision,  the  Kehena 
Ditch,  consisting  of  fourteen  miles  of  tunnel  and  ditch 
line,  some  of  it  through  rank  jungly  swampland.  This 
Ditch  supplements  the  Kohala  viaduct  by  conserving 
storm- waters  which  had  heretofore  been  wasted.  Along  the 
Kehena  we  rode  at  an  elevation  of  thousands  of  feet, 
through  some  of  the  most  gorgeous  country  of  the  whole 
Territory  of  Hawaii,  culminating  in  that  of  the  valley 
Honokane  Nui,  into  which  we  peered  while  Mr.  Bluett 
described  the  perilous  building  of  a  trail  we  could  see 
scratched  on  the  almost  perpendicular  wooded  side  of  the 
giant  gulch,  this  being  the  line  of  communication  for  the 
O'Shaughnessy  system. 

Jack,  with  his  unquestionable  love  of  natural  beauty, 
was  ever  impressed  with  man's  lordly  harnessing  of  the 
outlaw,  Nature,  leading  her  by  the  mouth  to  perform  his 
work  upon  earth. 

"Do  you  get  the  splendid  romance  of  it?"  he  would  say. 
"Look  what  these  engineers  have  done  —  reaching  out 
their  hands  and  gathering  and  diverting  the  storm  wastage 
of  streams  over  the  edge  of  this  valley  thousands  of  feet 
here  in  the  clouds. 

"Look  what  Bluett  has  accomplished,  and  he  isn't 
shouting  very  loud  about  it,  either.  Do  you  remember 
Jorgensen,  what  a  modest,  unassuming  fellow  he  was?  — 
and  Peter  Bluett  here  —  look  at  him :  Anglo-Saxon,  big, 
strong,  efficient  —  you  have  to  draw  out  such  men  to  learn 
what  they've  done  in  making  the  world  a  better  place  to 
live  in.  ...  And  yet,"  he  would  lapse  sadly,  "just  such 
men  are  devoting  their  brains  to  producing  destructive 


334  OUR  HAWAII 

machinery  for  making  anarchical  chaos  out  of  Europe, 
where  there  should  be  only  constructive  work  ...  all 
because  a  crazy  kaiser  and  his  lot  want  a  place  in  the 
sun,  and  the  whole  earth  to  boot." 

The  story  of  this  Ranch  alone,  of  which  Mr.  A.  Mason 
is  manager,  and  the  old  headquarters,  Puuhue,  of  its  orig- 
inal owner,  James  Woods,  an  Englishman  who  married  a 
sister  of  Colonel  Sam  Parker,  is  inextricably  woven  with 
the  dramatic  lore  of  the  Parker  Ranch.  Puuhue  is  a  house 
of  connected  as  well  as  detached  houses,  strung  over  a 
terraced  green  court  high-hedged  from  the  Trades  and 
shaded  by  fine  trees.  Here  lives  Mr.  Bluett,  with  Lucy 
his  wife  and  his  beautiful  little  daughter,  Treva.  In  one 
section  of  the  home,  a  large,  cool  room  of  stone,  Jack,  having 
finished  his  three  spirited,  pithy  articles,  under  title  of 
"My  Hawaiian  Aloha,"  and  one  short  story,  "The  Hussy," 
commenced  upon  a  strange  South  Sea  fantasy,  "The  Mes- 
sage." 

Again  is  the  compulsion  strong  within  me  to  expatiate 
upon  the  place  of  our  blissful  tarrying ;  but  my  book  would 
needs  start  a  yard-shelf  of  books  —  none  too  long  to  do 
the  subject  justice  —  were  I  to  let  pen  stray  among  the 
unwritten  stories  that  Mary's  active  memory,  impelled 
by  her  untrained  sense  of  artistry,  spun  for  us  on  the  way 
to  and  from  charming  social  functions  given  by  the  hos- 
pitable dwellers  of  the  English  countryside,  from  Kahua 
and  Puuhue  to  Kohala  and  beyond. 

There  was  an  afternoon  in  Miss  White's  entrancing 
British  gardens  on  a  Hawaiian  hillside;  tea  with  Mrs. 
H.  H.  Ren  ton,  whose  husband  we  knew  so  long  ago  at  Ewa 
Plantation ;  or  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sam  Woods ;  and  tea 
or  luncheon  at  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E.  Madden's  in  Mahukona ; 
with  dinners  and  card  parties  at  Mr.  Bluett's,  and  a  won- 
derful evening  with  the  Bucholtzs  at  the  Bryant  place. 
And  Mr.  Paetow  had  us  for  tea  in  his  quaint  garden  lanai 
past  Kohala,  on  the  beautiful  Niulii  Plantation,  its  little 


OUR  HAWAII  335 

gulches  choked  with  ferns  and  blossoming  ginger.  After- 
ward, he  drove  us  to  inspect  a  less  modern  ditch,  tunnel 
and  all,  that  still  irrigates  a  large  tract  of  taro  —  another 
ebullition  of  the  constructive  genius  of  Kamehameha. 

There  is  a  prehistoric  chart  laid  upon  the  long  incline 
of  the  Woods  Ranch.  It  resembles  the  map  of  a  vast 
scheme  of  town-lots,  the  rocks,  overgrown  with  green, 
windrowed  into  age-leveled  partitions.  An  explanation 
which  has  been  offered  is  that  this  was  not  a  continuously 
inhabited  district,  but  the  chance  halting  place  of  chiefs, 
who,  ever  migrating  with  their  retainers,  often  settled  down 
for  months  and  even  years,  raising  their  produce  as  well 
as  depending  upon  the  commoners  of  the  invaded  land. 
These  miles-broad  checkerboards  of  windrowed  stones  are 
also  to  be  seen  in  Kona  and  Waianea,  both  sections  being, 
like  this  portion  of  Kohala,  more  or  less  dry  in  certain 
seasons,  where  sweet  potatoes  were  of  old  the  principal 
crops,  growing  abundantly  in  the  wetter  months. 

This  location  was  the  point  at  which  Kamehameha  from 
time  to  time  converged  his  great  armies,  for  the  invasion 
of  Maui,  Molokai,  and  Oahu.  Several  years,  for  example, 
were  consumed  in  assembling  his  legion  of  18,000  fighting 
men  and  a  fleet  of  war  canoes  to  transport  them  to  the 
conquest  of  Oahu  alone.  It  is  likely  that  many  of  these 
troops  practically  supported  themselves  in  and  around  this 
section,  which  would  account  for  the  large  operations  in 
rock-gathering  that  fenced  and  divided  their  myriad  plots. 

"And  they,  too,  whispered  to  their  loves  that  life  was 
sweet  —  and  passed,"  Jack  would  muse  with  great  eyes 
upon  their  disappearance ;  "  and  we,  too,  shall  pass,  as  they 
passed,  from  the  land  they  loved." 

Mr.  Frank  Woods  lent  me  a  chestnut  horse  that  had 
been  in  training  for  his  wife,  absent  in  Honolulu  with  her 
declining  father,  Colonel  Sam  Parker.  She  had  not  yet  seen 
her  husband's  surprise  gift,  and  I  was  the  first  woman 
to  ride  the  splendid  creature,  while  the  Hawaiian  cowboys 


336  OUR  HAWAII 

who  had  broken  and  trained  him  stood  about  waiting  for 
whatever  might  happen.  For  be  it  known  that  Eva  and 
Frank  Woods  are  notable  specimens  of  Polynesian  "  physical 
aristocracy,"  despite  their  slight  Hawaiian  blood,  and  this 
animal,  his  dam  a  cow-pony  and  his  sire  a  thoroughbred 
race-horse  belonging  to  Prince  Cupid,  had  been  chosen  for 
size  and  power  to  carry  his  Amazonian  mistress  about  the 
mountain  ranch,  and  broken  by  heavy  men.  Little  was 
he  held  down  to  the  springy  earth  by  my  light  weight,  and 
we  spent  much  time  in  mid-air,  it  seemed  to  me,  for  he 
touched  ground  as  seldom  as  possible  in  his  leaping  uphill 
or  down,  over  the  high  lush  grasses,  as  if  conquering  a 
never  ending  succession  of  hurdles. 

It  was  from  the  hospitable  Maddens',  at  Mahukona, 
after  a  luau,  that  finally  our  truly  royal  progress  around  the 
royal  island  came  to  its  end.  Laden  with  their  leis,  and 
those  brought  or  sent  by  others  of  our  friends  in  Kohala, 
we  embarked  in  whaleboats  for  the  Mauna  Kea  anchored 
outside.  And  while  the  steamer  edged  along  the  southerly 
coast  before  squaring  for  Oahu,  stopping  off  several  familiar 
landings,  over  again  we  lived  what  Jack  sweetly  vowed 
were  six  of  the  happiest  weeks  he  had  ever  spent  in  the 
Islands. 

Back  at  Waikiki,  the  spreading  bungalow  seemed  home 
indeed,  with  our  own  servants,  always  adoring  of  Jack, 
smiling  welcome  from  the  wide  lanai. 

"Almost  do  we  feel  ourselves  kamaaina,  Mate  Woman," 
he  would  say,  arm  about  my  shoulders,  while  we  wel- 
comed or  sped  Honolulu  guests,  or  watched,  beyond  the 
Tyrian  dyes  of  the  reef,  smoke  of  steamers  that  brought 
to  us  visitors  from  the  Coast.  "Only,  never  forget  —  it 
is  not  for  us  to  say." 

One  thing  that  earned  Jack  London  his  kamaainaship 
was  his  activity  for  the  Pan-Pacific  Club.  Under  the 
algarobas  at  Pearl  Harbor,  in  1907,  one  day  he  and  Mr. 


(i)  Queen  Lydia.  Kamakaeha   Liliuokalani.     (2)  Governor  John   Owen   Dominis, 
the  Queen's  Consort.     (3)  A  Honolulu  Garden  —  Residence  of  Queen  Emma. 


OUR  HAWAII  337 

Ford  had  discussed  socialism  —  upon  Ford's  initiative. 
"Well,"  the  latter  concluded,  "I  can't  'see'  your  socialism. 
My  idea  is,  to  find  out  what  people  want,  help  them  to  it, 
then  make  them  do  what  you  wish  them  to  do ;  and  if  it 
is  right,  they  will  do  it  —  if  you  keep  right  after  them !  .  .  . 
Now,  I'm  soon  leaving  for  Australia  and  around  the  Pacific 
at  my  own  expense,  to  see  if  there  is  a  way  to  get  the  peoples 
to  work  together  for  one  another  and  for  the  Pacific." 

"That's  socialism  —  look  out ! "  Jack  contentedly  blew 
rings  into  the  still  air. 

"I  don't  care  if  it  is,"  retorted  his  friend.     "That  won't 
stop  me.^  Walter  Frear  has  just  been  appointed  Governor 
of  Hawaii,  and  I've  interested  him,  and  carry  an  official 
letter  with  me.     Hawaii,  with  her  mixture  of  Pacific  races, 
yet  with  no  race  problems,  should  be  the  country  to  take 
the  lead.     I'm  going  to  call  a  Pan-Pacific  Convention  here." 
"Go  to  it,  Ford,  and  I'll  help  all  I  can,"  Jack  approved. 
"All  right,   then,"   Ford   snapped  him  up.     "Address 
the  University  Club  next  week !" 

"  Sure  I  will,  and  glad  to,  though  you  know  how  I  despise 
public  speaking."  And  Jack  kept  his  promise,  while  Mr. 
Ford  was  presently  off  on  his  mission  to  Australasia. 

On  the  day  of  our  return  from  California  to  Honolulu 
in  1915,  while  helping  us  find  a  house  at  Waikiki,  Mr. 
Ford  recounted  the  growing  of  his  venture,  which  he  de- 
clared needed  only  Jack's  further  cooperation  to  carry  it 
through  to  success.  "It's  big,  I  tell  you;  it's  big!" 
Weekly  dinners  were  given  by  Ford  in  the  lanai  of  the  Out- 
rigger Club,  at  which  on  occasion  there  were  present  a  score 
of  the  leading  Hawaiians,  or  Chinese,  or  Japanese,  Koreans, 
Filipinos,  or  Portuguese,  to  exchange  ideas  with  the  leading 
white  men  who  were  behind  the  movement.  The  speeches 
and  discussions  were  of  vital  interest,  all  bent  toward 
bringing  about  a  working  in  unison  for  the  mutual  benefit 
of  Pacific  nations. 

Out  of  these  affairs  sprang  up  interesting  friendships 


338  OUR  HAWAII 

between  ourselves  and  these  foreigners  and  their  families, 
resulting  in  social  functions  in  our  respective  homes  and 
at  the  foreign  clubs,  and  also  at  the  Japanese  theaters. 
Would  that  all  the  international  differences  of  the  Union 
might  be  handled  as  harmoniously  as  they  are  in  Hawaii. 
During  our  last  sojourn  in  Honolulu,  more  than  one  Japan- 
ese father  assured  us:  "My  sons  were  born  under  your 
flag.  I  should  expect  them  to  fight  under  your  flag  if  need 
arose." 

One  evening,  at  the  Outrigger  Club,  Jack  spoke  the 
Pan-Pacific  doctrine  of  friend  Ford  before  the  Con- 
gressional visitors  and  three  hundred  representatives  of 
the  various  nationalities  in  Hawaii,  all  of  whom  responded 
enthusiastically  through  their  orators. 

The  Pan-Pacific  Club  grows  apace,  with  headquarters 
at  the  University  Club  in  Honolulu,  in  the  room  where 
Jack  first  fulfilled  his  pledge  to  speak  on  the  subject.  In 
this  room,  on  Balboa  Day,  1917,  Finn  Haakon  Frolich's 
splendid  bust  of  Jack  London,  modeled  on  the  Ranch  in 
1915,  was  unveiled;  while  at  Waikiki,  beneath  the  date- 
palm  that  marks  the  site  of  the  brown  tent-house,  a  Jack 
London  Memorial  drinking  fountain,  is  to  be  erected. 

In  San  Francisco,  Alexander  Hume  Ford  has  under  way 
the  project  for  a  great  skyscraper  to  be  called  the  Pan- 
Pacific  Building,  with  headquarters  therein  for  this  club 
the  name  of  which  is  now  ringing  around  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
And  while  he,  Mr.  Ford,  is  the  discoverer  of  this,  New 
Pacific,  humbly  he  insists  that  without  Jack  London  it 
would  have  been  a  longer,  stronger  pull  to  bring  about  the 
present  situation. 

I  did  not  dream  how  ill  a  man  Jack  was.  I  often  wonder 
if  he  himself  possessed  any  inkling  of  the  gravity  of  his 
condition.  But  slowly  it  began  to  dawn  upon  me  that 
matters  were  radically  wrong  with  him.  Else  why  did  that 
"cast-iron  stomach,"  as  he  loved  to  boast  it,  decline  to 


OUR  HAWAII  339 

retain  even  the  food  he  only  played  with?     "You  must 
remember,"   he   would   parry   questioning,    "that  break- 
fast is  my  meal  of  the  day.     Why,  this  morning  I  had,  in 
addition  to  my  cups  of  Kona  coffee,  a  half  of  a  papaia,  a 
rge^dish  of  mush  and  cream,  and  my  glass  of  soft-boiled 
That  sounded  reassuring;    but  what  for  a  long 
time  I  did  not  know  was  that  this  much-enjoyed  breakfast 
seldom   remained   with   him   beyond   the   hour.     At   the 
home  table,  or  dining  out,  to  guests'  or  hostesses'  query, 
You  are  not  eating !    Don't  you  ever  eat  ?  "  he  invariably 
replied,  "Oh,  I'd  always  rather  talk  than  eat,  you  know 
I  can  eat  any  time." 

And  more  frequently,  on  the  rare  days  we  lacked  com- 
pany, he  slept  the  afternoon  away,  merely  mentioning 
without  complaint,  that  he  had  lain  awake  most  of  the 
night  reading.  With  delight  he  listened  to  Robert  W. 
Shingles  proffer  of  his  own  polo  ponies  to  ride  about 
Kapiolani  Park  or  anywhere  we  chose ;  but  I  alone  availed 
myself  of  the  genial  Senator's  gift. 

Always  was  he  ready  for  cards  at  Mrs.  E.  S.  Cunha's 
or  one  of  her  wonderful  luaus ;  or  dinner  and  cards  at  the 
Harvey  Murrays;  or  with  Charles  Chillingworth,  Presi- 
dent of  the  Senate,  and  his  adorable  wife,  Ann ;  or  maybe 
it  would  be  with  Francesca  Colonna  Hawes,  in  Princess 
Kawananakoa's  lovely  old  home  on  Pensacola  Street,  or  a 
game  with  Mr.  Hawes  at  the  University  Club.  Princess 
Kawananakoa  we  had  never  seen  since  1907,  but  had 
come  to  know  her  sisters,  Mrs.  Shingle,  Mrs.  Walter 
Macfarlane,  and  Mrs.  George  Beckley.  Then,  too,  there 
were  dinners  exchanged  with  our  army  and  navy  friends 
and  Governor  Pinkham  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  C.  B.  Cooper' 
with  whom  he  lived ;  or  Claire  and  Bruce  Cartwright  gave 
a  dance  in  their  open  ballroom  up  Nuuanu ;  and  we  made 
exchange  dinner  and  theater  parties  with  the  C.  B  Highs 
the  Frank  Thompsons,  the  William  Williamsons.  Not  least 
amongst  our  good  friends  was  Charles  Dana  Wright  of 


340  OUR  HAWAII 

the  Star-Bulletin,  who  held  his  family  silver  ever  ready  to 
accommodate  our  increasing  table,  in  the  rented  house  of 
limited  furnishings. 

And  there  were  days  and  nights  when  we  met  Prince 
Cupid  and  our  First  Princess,  at  Sam  Parker's,  where  the  old 
Colonel's  devoted  girls,  Eva  Woods  and  Helen  Widemann, 
entertained  informally,  and  we  saw  the  gallant  spend- 
thrift host  of  other  days  failing,  failing.  ...  It  was  the 
year  before,  one  of  the  last  days  he  ever  left  the  house,  that 
in  our  Beach  Walk  cottage  we  had  Colonel  Parker  for  lunch- 
eon, together  with  his  life-long  friend,  that  good  Bohemian 
and  gentleman,  Frank  linger,  since  dead.  The  two  wore 
about  their  Panama  hats  orange  leis  of  ilima,  now  so  rarely 
seen  in  these  days  of  careless  paper  imitations,  which  they 
presented  to  Jack  and  me.  And  it  is  these  cherished  gar- 
lands of  wilted  flower-gold  that  now  wreathe  their  friend's 
ashes  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon. 

And  there  were  times  when  we  twain  were  included  in 
affairs  that  were  solely  Hawaiian  except  for  the  few  who 
had  married  into  the  families  —  as  at  Charles  W.  Booth's 
beautiful  house,  Halewa,  one  night  in  Pauoa  Valley,  where 
a  hundred  sat  down  to  a  great  banquet,  with  a  dance  to 
follow  in  the  vine-screened  lanai,  from  which  one  could  see 
up  the  valley  the  hundreds  of  acres  that  were  as  a  back- 
garden  of  the  estate.  Mrs.  Booth,  herself  part  Hawaiian, 
and  daughter  of  a  Maui  chief,  let  us  roam  about  the  ab- 
sorbing apartments,  each  a  veritable  museum  of  treasure 
trove  inherited  from  her  aunt,  Malie  Kahai,  a  celebrated 
beauty  —  feather  leis,  tapas,  calabashes,  finest  of  mats, 
and,  prize  of  all,  a  feather  cape  that  had  belonged  to  her 
princely  father.  Some  of  the  furniture  had  come  from  the 
palace  of  the  king  and  from  Queen  Emma's  residence. 
Here  we  met  Stella  Keomailani,  Mrs.  Kea,  "Stella"  to 
her  intimates,  last  living  descendant  of  the  high  chiefs 
of  the  Poohoolewaikala  line  —  a  sort  of  royal  Hawaiian 
clan  descended  from  kings.  Blue-blooded  pure  Hawaiian, 


OUR  HAWAII  341 

she  is  a  remarkable  type  —  tall,  slender,  with  brown  hair 
and  hazel  eyes  and  a  skin  as  of  ivory  washed  with  pale 
gold.  One  would  call  her  almost  fair.  On  her  father's 
side  she  is  cousin  to  Queen  Emma,  and  one  of  the  heirs 
mentioned  in  the  Queen's  will. 

But  there  —  to  mention  all  who  blessed  us  with  their 
friendship  would  be  almost  to  quote  our  Honolulu  tele- 
phone directory,  which  hangs  now  at  my  elbow,  with  its 
markings  desolately  reminiscent  of  the  roof  under  which 
Jack  London  dwelt  those  seven  months  on  Kalia  Road. 

Anxious  for  the  criticism  of  Honolulans  upon  certain 
stories  he  was  writing  at  this  period,  "On  the  Makaloa 
Mat,"  "The  Water  Baby,"  "When  Alice  Told  Her  Soul," 
"The  Bones  of  Kahekili,"  Jack  often  had  me  telephoning 
for  a  party  to  come  for  luncheon  or  drop  around  for  tea 
under  the  hau,  for  the  reading,  with  a  swim  to  follow. 
Other  new  stories  he  wrote  and  read  aloud  —  "The  Kanaka 
Surf,"  "The  Message,"  "The  Princess,"  and  "Like  Argus 
of  the  Ancient  Times."  With  the  exception  of  "The 
Kanaka  Surf,"  which  was  a  haole  tale  placed  in  Honolulu, 
none  of  these  latter  are  Hawaiian  fiction.  The  next  novel 
he  contemplated  settling  down  to  was  to  bear  the  title  of 
"Cherry"  —a  Japanese  heroine  with  an  Islands  setting 
and  a  potent  radical  motif.  And  this  work,  "Cherry," 
was  the  broken  thing  he  left  behind  when  he  died  on 
November  22. 

One  morning  Jack  was  obliged  to  have  me  call  in  Doctors 
Herbert  and  Walters,  for  he  had  been  seized  with  the  agonies 
of  kidney  stone.  Shortly  before,  he  had  been  very  ill  all 
night,  as  if  from  ptomaine  poisoning.  And  within  a  week 
of  his  death,  home  on  the  Ranch,  there  was  a  repetition  of 
both  these  symptoms  of  a  condition  that  he  would  not  regard 
seriously.  "Don't  worry,"  he  would  brush  aside  attempts 
to  diagnose  or  to  call  in  medical  advice.  "It  will  pass  — 
look  at  me:  I  am  in  good  weight,  and  shall  live  many 


342  OUR  HAWAII 

happy  years,  my  dear."  But  there  was  that  in  his  face 
which  brought  me  white  nights,  and  caused  his  friends  to 
ask,  "What  ails  Jack?  He  looks  well  enough,  but  there's 
something  about  him  ...  his  eyes  .  .  ." 

And  so  the  gay  wheel  turned  in  Honolulu,  as  the  golden 
days  and  star-blue  nights  came  and  went.  And  yet,  for 
all  Jack  courted  more  or  less  excitement  —  I  quote  from 
my  pocket  diary,  and  the  date  is  June  14,  1916 :  "Mate 
said  to-night  that  this  has  been  the  happiest  day  he  ever 
spent  in  the  Islands.  And  what  did  he  do?  Write,  read 
me  what  he  had  composed;  and  we  lunched  and  dined 
conjugally  alone  together,  with  a  little  swim  in  between 
whiles;  and  in  the  evening  he  read  to  me  from  George 
Sterling's  latest  book  of  poems,  'The  Caged  Eagle,'  just 
received  from  George,  and  broke  down  in  the  reading  be- 
fore the  deathless  beauty  of  the  poem  called  'In  Autumn.' ' 

Before  we  sailed  for  home,  which  was  on  July  26,  that 
Jack  might  attend  the  Bohemian  Jinks,  we  put  our  heads 
together  with  Mary's  for  the  planning  of  a  luau,  just  before 
our  departure,  under  our  own  roof  and  hau  tree  for  our 
own  Hawaiian  friends,  with  a  night  of  dancing  and  music 
and  cards  to  follow.  The  only  haoles  to  be  bidden  were 
their  close  connections.  Forty  they  sat  at  the  great 
board  that  was  entirely  covered  with  deep  layers  first  of 
ti-leaves  and  then  ferns,  strewn  with  flowers  and  fruit  of 
every  description,  native  and  imported.  It  was  a  feast 
served  by  women  whose  business  it  was  to  see  that  every 
detail  was  in  the  most  approved  Hawaiian  fashion. 

To  Mary  Low  must  be  given  the  praise  for  the  success  of 
this  occasion,  for  under  her  superintendence  it  was  pro- 
duced. And  upon  her  unerring  knowledge  and  tact  the 
place-cards,  bearing  embossed  the  royal  coat-of-arms  of 
Hawaii,  were  laid.  The  ends  of  the  enormous  table  were 
seated  in  this  wise :  Jack  center,  with  Princess  Cupid  to 


OUR  HAWAII  343 

his  right,  and  Mrs.  Stella  Kea  left.  Myself  at  opposite 
end,  with  Prince  Cupid  on  my  right,  and  Mayor  Lane  at 
my  other  side,  while  his  wife,  Alice,  sat  at  the  Prince's 
right  —  she  of  the  beautiful  hands  that  are  her  husband's 
pride,  exquisitely  modeled  by  a  mother's  early  manipula- 
tion, lomilomi,  after  the  charming  Hawaiian  practice. 

Our  friends  will  not,  I  am  sure,  be  offended  if  I  mention 
a  laughable  incident  that  all  took  in  jovial  good  part. 
Next  the  Princess,  "Bob"  Shingle,  best  of  toastmasters, 
had  concluded  his  opening  brilliant  speech,  and  sat  down 
amidst  hearty  applause.  But  his  sitting  was  not  of  a 
permanence  that  was  to  be  expected,  being  in  fact  an 
entire  disappearance  to  those  at  my  end  of  the  long  table, 
and  alarm  widened  the  blue  eyes  of  Muriel,  his  wife. 
Alack,  the  floor  of  the  aged  lanai  had  not  upborne  such 
weight  of  Polynesian  aristocracy  these  many  years,  and 
the  hind-legs  of  even  this  medium-sized  haole's  chair 
went  incontinently  through  the  rotten  planking. 

Hardly  had  the  bubble  of  merriment  subsided  when, 
to  my  speechless  horror,  Prince  Cupid  vanished  from  my 
side  in  a  clean  back-somersault.  He  was  on  his  nimble 
feet  almost  before  he  struck  the  sand  nearly  a  foot  below 
the  lanai-level  —  not  for  nothing  had  he  learned  football 
tactics  in  his  university  days.  His  good-natured  mirth 
put  all  at  ease,  and  the  alert  nervousness  of  Senator 
Chillingworth  and  others  of  his  stature  and  avoirdupois 
called  forth  much  funning.  However,  there  were  fortu- 
nately no  more  accidents,  and  the  speech-making  in  ap- 
preciation of  Jack  and  his  services  to  Hawaii  was  gratifying 
in  the  extreme. 

I  can  see  Jack  now,  as  he  rose,  all  in  white  save  for  his 
black  soft  tie,  hesitating  half-diffidently  with  the  fingers  of 
one  hand  absently  caressing  the  flowers  on  the  ti-leaves, 
before  raising  his  eyes,  black-blue  and  misted  with  feeling. 
At  first  his  voice,  low  and  clear,  shook  slightly,  but  gathered, 
with  his  beautiful,  Greek  face,  a  solemnity  that  increased 


344  OUR  HAWAII 

as  he  spoke  his  heart  to  these  people  among  whom  he  loved 
to  dwell. 

Secondarily  to  the  pure  aloha  motive  of  this  luau,  we 
had  assembled  our  friends  for  the  christening  of  the  Jack 
London  Hula,  chanted  stanza  by  stanza,  each  repeated  by 
the  celebrated  Ernest  Kaai  and  his  perfect  Hawaiian 
singers  with  their  instruments.  Mary  was  the  mother  of 
this  mele,  for  in  her  fertile  brain  was  conceived  the  idea 
of  immortalizing,  for  Hawaii,  Jack  London  himself  and 
more  specifically  his  progress  around  the  Big  Isle  of  Mounts, 
as  was  done  for  the  chiefs  of  old  by  their  bards  and  min- 
strels. 

The  Hawaiian  woman  best  fitted,  in  Mary's  judgment, 
to  recite  the  saga,  was  Rosalie  (Lokalia)  Blaisdell,  who  had 
helped  in  the  versifying;  and  all  Lokalia  asked  in  return 
for  the  long  evening's  effort,  which  with  lofty  sweetness 
she  assured  us  was  her  honor  and  pleasure,  was  a  copy 
each  of  Jack's  "Cruise"  and  my  "Log"  of  the  Snark. 

Thus,  during  the  eating  of  the  hundred  and  one  Ha- 
waiian delicacies  that  a  bevy  of  pretty  girls  prepared  and 
served  from  the  kitchen,  never  was  the  gayety  so  robust 
that  it  did  not  silence  instantly  when  Lokalia's  voice  rose 
intoning  above  the  gentle  wash  of  reef  waters  against  the 
sea  wall  thirty  feet  away,  followed  by  the  succession  of 
Kaai's  lovely  music  to  the  mele.  Each  long  stanza, 
carrying  an  incident  of  the  progress  around  Hawaii  and 
those  who  welcomed  Jack,  closed  with  two  lines : 

"Hainaia  mai  ana  ka  puana, 
No  Keaka  Lakana  neia  inoa." 

"This  song  is  then  echoed, 
'Tis  in  honor  of  Jack  London." 

Listened  critically  all  those  qualified  to  judge,  and  now 
and  again  a  low  "Good,"  or  "Perfect,"  or  "Couldn't  be 


OUR  HAWAII  345 

better,  Mary,"  or  "All  honor  to  Mary  Kipikane!"  would 
be  forthcoming  from  Prince  or  Mayor  or  Senator.  And 
there  was  in  the  mele  a  lilting  Spanish  dance  song  for 
Lakana  Wahine  —  Kaikilani  Poloku,  which  is  myself ;  for 
kind  hearts  gave  me  the  name  of  a  beloved  queen  of  the 
long  gone  years,  whose  meaning  is  passing  sweet  to  me,  for 
Jack  loved  it  too. 

And  now,  through  tears  I  write  of  the  end,  when,  laden 
to  the  eyes  with  no  false  leis  by  the  hands  of  Hawaii,  Jack 
looked  down  from  the  high  steamer  deck  into  the  up- 
turned faces  of  the  people  of  his  Aloha  Land,  standing 
ankle-deep  in  flowers  and  serpentine.  The  great  Matsonia 
cast  off  hawsers,  and,  moving  ahead  majestical-slow,  parted 
the  veil  of  serpentine  and  flowers  woven  from  her  every 
rail  to  the  quay. 

"Of  all  lands  of  joy  and  beauty  under  the  sun  .  .  ." 
Jack  began,  the  words  trailing  into  eloquent  silence.  He 
had  approached  Hawaii  with  gifts  of  candor  and  affection 
in  hands,  and  eyes,  and  lips.  And  Hawaii,  impermeable 
to  meanness  or  harboring  of  grudge  over  franknesses  that 
had  but  voiced  his  grave  interest  in  her,  has  been  the 
greater  giver,  in  that  she  granted  him  the  joy  and  satisfac- 
tion of  realizing  that  they  had  not  known  each  other  in 
vain. 

Not  alone  because  it  was  Jack  London's  Loveland  do 
I  adore  Hawaii  and  her  people.  To  me,  native  and  haole 
alike,  have  they  expressed  their  heart  of  sorrow  in  ways 
numerous  and  touching.  To  them,  this  book,  "Our 
Hawaii."  To  them,  greeting  and  farewell : 

"  Love  without  end." 
"  Aloha  pau  ole." 

JACK  LONDON  RANCH, 
IN  THE  VALLEY  or  THE  MOON, 
September  i,  1917. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


T  TTJTJ  ATJV 


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